


For Want of a Butterfly Effect

by angelofthequeers



Series: Butterfly Effect [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anna Milton Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Annoying father-in-law Chuck, Because she's my precious bean, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Emotional Dean Winchester, Emotional Sex, Emotional roller coaster for Dean, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Good Anna, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I mean things end up better buuuuuut, Impala Sex, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Michael!Dean, Nightmares, Not so better in other ways, Panic room sex, Romance, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Semi-angsty ending, Slow Build, Smut, Spoilers up to S13, Time Travel, Torture, Unofficially adopting Claire, Yes there will be a sequel now please stop complaining about my ending, because why not, temporary mcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 117,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: Naturally, with the death of Cas at Lucifer's hands, things have gone to hell in a handbasket yet again. Chuck's solution? To cram Dean's 2017 soul back into his 2008 body and give Dean a shot at Apocalypse take two. Catch is, Dean can't tell anyone about this as he meddles with fate and tries to avoid annoying the wrong people...too much. And trying to get through to the douchey love of his life a second time isn't helping matters, especially when he's trying to avoid boning said douchey love of his life. But hey, he never was any good at keeping secrets anyway...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CANNOT believe I managed to sit on this for so long but...yay, I DCBB'd! 
> 
> First off, I want to thank my beta reader Anika. I never usually have a beta, since I'm largely a loner, but Anika really stepped up and helped pinpoint things I could improve on and I want to send her big love for that <3
> 
> Second, my teammate, dreymart. I don't know what deity I pleased to have gained dreym as my artist for this challenge because I honestly don't think I could have landed a better artist. She's been more than just my artist - she sent me spiralling down into another fandom (Miraculous Ladybug) and I can honestly say that I made a friend from this challenge, because I'm not going to stop talking to her now that our work is out. Seriously, go give her and her Tumblr some serious love, because she's an absolutely amazing artist. And the art masterpost for this fic is [right here!](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)
> 
> Third, the organisers of this challenge. Jojo and Muse put a LOT of effort into the DCBB, what with coordinating over a hundred authors and matching them with artists, and these two seriously deserve all the love. Please do check out the DCBB Tumblr and take a look at all the amazing fics that were contributed to this challenge thanks to the work of these two.
> 
> And fourth, to all the readers who've stuck with me over the past few years. I can quite honestly say that I would not be at this point with my writing if not for y'all, and I want to thank you for sticking around even through my long-ass blocks and issues. 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [Tumblr](http://angelofthequeers.tumblr.com)!

There was a naphil being born. An honest-to-god atom bomb that could quite possibly destroy the universe if provoked, or take the Earth as its playground for the fun of it.

Not that Dean cared. The world could burn, really. Hell, it _should_ have been burning. Why?

Cas was dead. Gone. Stabbed in the back with his own angel blade by Lucifer. Dear god, if Dean wasn’t quite so numb at the moment, there would be unquenchable, scorching anger coursing through him, though he suspected that that wasn’t far off.

And yet, despite the fact that Cas was dead, the world kept spinning. There was still a cool breeze brushing his face. The faint sound of birds could still be heard. The grass was still as soft as ever, except for where it was scorched in the shape of two massive wings.

Cas’ wings. Because Castiel, angel of the Lord, was dead.

“You come back, you son of a bitch,” Dean finally whispered. Cas’ hand was clutched in his, though he had no idea when he’d sank to his knees and grabbed it, and it wasn’t yet cold but it wasn’t as warm as a living hand. “Come on, Cas. You said you wouldn’t die. You said you’d be there when everyone else was gone.”

Cas didn’t respond. Understandable, since he was dead. But Dean had seen stranger things before, and Cas jolting back to life so that Dean could grab him and hug him close and never let go as he finally expressed his feelings wasn’t totally outside the realm of possibility.

Right?

“You promised!” Dean bellowed. Dimly, he registered the breeze brushing his damp face, and he realised that he’d started to cry. “You fucking promised, Cas!”

Cas didn’t reply. Letting out a wordless wail, Dean grabbed his body and hugged Cas to his chest, rocking back and forth as he honest to god cried like a baby for the first time in maybe decades. Why cry like this now? It was probably all the emotional hits he’d taken that day, not to mention that the fucking love of his life was _dead_ and all.

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, cradling Cas’ body, but he was jerked out of his trance by the sound of a familiar voice. Even if the voice hadn’t been familiar, he probably wouldn’t have cared anyway.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Dean rasped, looking up at the figure standing before him. Chuck sighed loudly.

“I just listened for the sound of complete and utter man pain and followed that.”

“You watch –?”

“Seriously, Dean? You lot can’t stop dying, can you? Is it some sort of adrenaline rush for you guys or something?”

“Fuck you,” Dean snarled. “Bring him back.”

“Why should I? I swore off interference.”

“You’re here.”

“That’s true.” Chuck fell silent, examining Cas’ body critically.

“Well?” Dean demanded.

“I’m not gonna do it,” Chuck finally said. Dean’s mouth fell open but, before he could protest, Chuck held up a hand. “Bringing Cas back? That won’t fix anything. One of you will inevitably die again and honestly, all this dying’s getting a little tired. That plot point’s been done to death.”

“So, what, come here to rub it in?” Dean said darkly. Chuck raised an eyebrow.

“You think it makes me happy to see my favourite son lying dead on the grass because my other son couldn’t grow up?”

“Then bring him back.”

“No. But you can fix it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I really got the juice to bring back a blade of grass, let alone an angel.”

Chuck rolled his eyes to high heaven. “I’m offering you a do-over,” he said. “One-time offer, non-refundable. I’ll take you back to 2008 – just after Cas pulled you out of Hell – and you can fix it all. He doesn’t have to die, Sam doesn’t have to go through all the crap he did.”

Dean blinked. Then he blinked again. Going back to 2008? What was this shit?

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, ‘cause time travel always works out _so_ well. I mean, it’s not like I went back to 1973 and couldn’t fix anything.”

“That’s different,” Chuck said dismissively. “For one, that was a fixed plot point. For another, I won’t be sending you back like this. I’ll shove your soul into your younger body. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be 2008 Dean to everyone else, but you’ll have the memories and experiences that you do now.”

“And I can stop all this from happening?” Dean said disbelievingly. It almost sounded too good to be true. The chance to erase everything? All the deaths? Everything he and Sam and Cas had been through? “What’s the catch?”

Chuck’s lips twitched. “I’ve got conditions. You _cannot_ say that you’re from the future, for three reasons. One: because I said so. Two: because then everyone’ll expect you to remember everything and stop all the bad stuff, and you can’t stop _everything_. And three: you really don’t want Heaven and Hell to learn about that, or they’ll pump you for information.”

“Great kids you got there,” Dean said sarcastically. Chuck shrugged.

“Also, Lucifer has to rise. I know!” he said quickly when Dean stiffened and went to argue, so Dean shot him a dirty look. “Don’t give me that look, Dean. Free will or not, there are some things you just _cannot_ change. I’m sure you learned that when you tried to stop Mary from making that deal with Azazel.”

Dean set his jaw. Whatever Chuck said, if he took this deal then he was damn well gonna make sure that Lucifer stayed in his box.

“And condition number four: you have to stop the Apocalypse. You can’t let both archangels get their true vessels. I’m rooting for you, but I won’t interfere.”

Dean was silent for a moment, processing this information. “And in return…I get free rein?” he said.

“Relatively. Like I said, fixed plot points. But you’ll be free to fix most of it. Sam doesn’t have to get hooked on demon blood. Cas can still choose free will, but you’ll be slightly more helpful this time – or, if you want to be a total self-flagellating martyr, you can make sure he stays with Heaven and doesn’t fall. Your choice. These are things you _can_ fix.”

The offer was tempting. Oh, it was tempting. But there was one burning question pushing at Dean’s insides. “What about Sam?” he said. “My Sam? And Jack, the naphil kid? They’ll just carry on without me? ‘Cause I ain’t leaving Sam.”

“Dean, I’m sending you back in time in this timeline, not into another one. The minute you change one thing in the past, you render this future moot.”

“So…”

“They won’t exist. Gone. Wiped.”

Nausea churned in Dean’s stomach. “No way,” he said immediately. “I ain’t letting Sam just get wiped out of existence.”

“I’ve already spoken to him, Dean. He gave me his blessing. Look, go talk to him before you decide, okay? I’ll wait here.”

It was a chore to let go of Cas’ body. Dean nearly had to slap himself before his limbs obeyed him and gently rested Cas on the grass, then let him stand up. The house was dark, with an atmosphere of death, and he didn’t need to glance in Kelly’s room to know that she was dead. But he did find Sam in there, so he slipped inside after a moment of watching Sam examine Kelly’s body.

“You talk to Chuck?” Sam said. Dean nodded.

“He’s crazy.”

“Not necessarily.”

Dean blinked. “You believe in Doc Brown’s plan?”

“I believe that it’s the best damn offer we’ve had in a while, Dean. Chuck was right. It’s only gonna get worse from here. Everyone’ll be after Jack, and you know the Brits won’t let up. So many people are dead. Plus, think of how many lives we could’ve saved if we’d had that foresight.”

“Sam –”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll have better luck with a me who hasn’t messed up so much.”

“Hey,” Dean sharply. “You shut your mouth, Sam. You’re _not_ a screw up. The way you took charge like that with the other hunters? Dude, I’ve never been prouder.”

Sam actually grinned widely at him.

“I just don’t believe you’re actually tellin’ me to leave you here to get wiped outta existence.”

“Not existing isn’t the same as dying,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “It’s not like I’ll actually know that everything after 2008 didn’t happen.”

“But – Sam, I can’t just leave you like that! _I’ll_ know!” Great, the tears were starting to come back. Dean wiped them away with a scowl, willing them to fuck off.

“We’re both going to the Empty when we die anyway,” Sam reminded him. “You heard Billie. So why throw away a chance at fixing it all when we’re both gonna stop existing in this timeline sooner or later? If you can wriggle out of that _and_ fix things, it’ll be worth it!”

“I can’t just leave you like that,” Dean repeated blankly. His brain was threatening to shut down at any moment, and he could already hear the start of static in his ears. “I can’t screw you over.”

Sam gave him a look – that look that said that he knew exactly where to hit and that this wasn’t gonna end well for Dean. “But you’ll be looking out for younger me,” he reasoned. “I won’t have to listen to Ruby and get hooked on demon blood like that. Or lose my soul. Or have angels shoved down my throat. Just think of what you could do for me by going back, Dean, as opposed to staying here, where we have no clue and we’ll probably make shit worse again. You’ve got a cheat sheet for the Apocalypse!”

“I like him.” Sam and Dean whirled to see Chuck standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “See, Sam gets it.”

“Well, why are you gonna send me back and not Sam?” Dean demanded. “We’re a package deal.”

Chuck sighed. But he didn’t look pissed off or anything, so Dean counted it as a win.

“Remember how I told you I’d be putting your soul into your younger body?” Chuck said. “Dealing with souls is tricky business. It’ll be hard enough taking your slightly-damaged soul and melding it with your younger soul, since souls can’t co-exist.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Your soul isn’t torn to shreds like Sam’s is. I mean, Sam’s mostly whole, but after that stint in the Cage years ago? It’s still too unstable to be throwing into the timestream and merging it with his much less damaged soul. With that amount of energy, I’d probably destroy the whole timeline.”

“But you’re _God_!”

“Even I’m limited in what I can do with souls, Dean. Hell, even Amara couldn’t _destroy_ the souls she consumed.”

The thought of being stuck inside the primordial being of destruction for all of eternity with no chance of escape made Dean nauseous. But he was also pissed, because Sam and Chuck made some excellent points about this time travel thing and he was actually inclined to agree with them. All he had to do was look at Sam to see just how… _tired_ his baby brother looked. And it broke his heart to see just how much weight Sam had been carrying all these years. If this time travel thing would lift that weight, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Fine,” he said, his voice wavering. He turned to Chuck. “Just…give us a moment.”

Chuck vanished. Dean immediately pulled Sam into probably the tightest hug he’d ever given his little brother, keenly aware that this would be the last time he’d ever get to touch this Sam, and Sam laughed softly and hugged him back.

“You’re always looking out for me, Dean,” Sam said, rubbing Dean’s back. Dean wanted to tell him to stop being creepy but honestly, the motion was kinda nice. And it wasn’t like this Sam would really exist to remember. “This is the best way to keep doing that. Just…promise me you’ll look after yourself, okay? You’re just as important as any of us.”

“Sammy –”

“Dean, I’m serious. Don’t run yourself into the ground trying to fix things and cause yourself a heap of unnecessary pain. You’re important too.”

Dean’s eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall. “Whatever, bitch,” he mumbled. Sam laughed.

“Jerk.”

Now that they were straying into the realm of too long to be brotherly acceptable, Dean let go of Sam and clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Sammy,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chuck standing in the doorway again.

“I’ll enjoy non-existence for the both of us,” Sam joked weakly. Dean tried to crack a smile, but both of them could tell that it fell short.

“Alright, what do I have to do?” he said, turning to face Chuck. He gulped when the very personification of creation approached him.

“Just stand still. Should only take a moment.”

The last thing he was aware of was Sam’s hand on his arm, squeezing in one last show of support, before every single sense shut off and he was surrounded by oppressive darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Of course. Of fucking course. Chuck just _had_ to stuff him into buried-alive Dean, didn’t he? Did the dude have some sort of sick sense of humour?

“You fucking _asshole_!” Dean yelled hoarsely, pounding on the wood above him. Muttering more choice swear words under his breath that would’ve made even John blush, Dean started to bash the wood to bits so that he could break out, inhaling deeply when soil spilled into the makeshift coffin. The last thing he needed was to suffocate to death just seconds after coming back in time.

It was bad enough digging his way out the first damn time around and he wasn’t exactly keen to do it again. But at least Dean knew what was going on this time around, so it didn’t take as long this time before his hand burst out of the dirt and into the cool air up above. Forcing himself not to reflexively exhale in relief just yet, Dean continued to struggle that precious last bit up until his head finally broke through the ground. Only then did he allow himself to breathe, gulping in large breaths of air and cursing Chuck with the most colourful swear words he could think of.

“Smite me, I don’t give a shit!” he finally concluded at the sky. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or not when there was no reply. “Whatever.”

It took at least ten minutes of lying there before Dean could finally muster up the strength to push himself to his feet, marvelling at the lack of so many of his aches and pains that he’d been bogged down with by the time 2017 rolled around. He hadn’t noticed just how many of his bones and joints were giving him grief from his rather _active_ lifestyle, and even Cas’ holy angel healing couldn’t catch everything.

Dean faltered, images of Cas’ broken corpse flashing before his eyes, and he had to blink rapidly to stop the tears from escaping because goddammit, he was _not_ a fucking baby! He’d just…lost the guy he loved. The love of his damn life, as much as it made him cringe to think _that_ word. And even if he freed this Cas from those angelic bitches, it still wouldn’t be the same. _This_ Cas had absolutely no memories of all the shit they’d been through and all the growth he’d gone through over nine years.

Hell, Dean hadn’t even officially met this Cas yet. Being pulled out of Satan’s ass crack didn’t really count if he couldn’t actually remember it.

“This is gonna be fuckin’ great,” he muttered, setting off down the dirt road and wondering if it was too late to strangle the holy personification of light and creation.

* * *

_Thursday, September 18, 2008_

What a mindfuck it was to see that in front of him, the paper fresh and crisp and not dated. He’d never actually thought much of this date and Cas had never brought it up, so Dean had assumed that it wasn’t a huge deal. But now he was overwhelmed with the realisation of just how significant this date was.

It was today that Cas risking everything finally paid off, even if he arrived too late to stop Dean kickstarting Judgement Day. It was today that he’d started his fall to hang with the mud monkeys. Had this day actually meant something to him? Or was Dean just being a fucking sentimental, time-travelling chick?

Groaning, he tossed the newspaper back and stretched his aching muscles, then froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of raised red flesh under his left sleeve, and his heart practically leapt into his throat as he crashed through the abandoned store to get to the bathroom. It took him at least a minute of staring into the mirror, focusing on how much younger he looked (despite having just been pulled out of Hell) so that he could chicken out of this, before he finally gave himself a mental bitch slap, took hold of his sleeve, and rolled.

And it was there. Dean’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar red handprint seared into his shoulder, in the perfect shape of a hand that he’d gotten to know intimately for nearly a decade. Barely breathing, Dean fit his right hand over the print, then let out a shaky sob-laugh.

“Fucking Christ,” he said, relief coursing through him that his voice didn’t crack like he was a freaking teenager or something. He couldn’t actually admit out loud that he missed this handprint – he hadn’t unlocked that level of emotional capability yet, because he was still a fucked-up son of a bitch who’d rather go three rounds with all four archangels and Amara combined rather than actually stop and think about his feelings – but Christ, what a freaking comfort it was to see it there. He’d forgotten just how much he missed the damn thing.

When he could finally bring himself to stop staring at his angel hickey and go back into the main store, Dean was greeted with yet another surprise that he’d forgotten about: Cas not realising that his true voice wasn’t exactly human friendly and accidentally trying to blow Dean’s eardrums out as he vaporised every breakable thing in the store. Once Cas’ presence was gone and he’d gotten over the whole ears-ringing-and-head-trying-to-blow-up schtick, Dean just sagged against the store counter as everything that had happened lately – telling Mary he hated her, Crowley dying, Cas dying, leaving his brother and angel behind in 2017 – crashed on him at once, and all he could do was burst out into laughter that edged on crazily hysterical.

What the fuck else could he do?

* * *

It was a close toss-up about who to see first: Sam or Bobby? He went to Bobby first in the last timeline but that was only because he couldn’t reach Sam’s number and he had no freaking idea where Sam even was. But this time, he did know where Sam was.

Sort of. He remembered that Sam should’ve been hanging around Pontiac with Ruby, but that was about it.

The thought of Ruby filled Dean with poisonous anger. That bitch had fucked with Sam’s mind, turning him into a drug addict and turning him away from Dean. And Sam had _loved_ her. He’d genuinely loved her, and maybe that was why Dean just couldn’t move past his hatred of her. Sure, Sam had fucked up majorly by trusting her…but he _had_ trusted her, and it was Dean’s job as a big brother to shank anybody who hurt his baby brother. Taking Sam and toying with his feelings and head like that definitely fucking counted.

“Fine,” he mumbled to himself. Even if it would’ve been more difficult to explain just how he knew where Sam was, he couldn’t let Ruby keep her claws in him for a minute longer than necessary. That was _not_ how Dean Winchester rolled. “Sammy it is.”

Though he didn’t remember exactly where Sam should’ve been, he was certain that he’d remember the motel if he saw it. It was a pleasant surprise when Dean realised that he’d been buried near Pontiac, so it didn’t take long to get into the town itself, and he struck gold by finding Sam’s motel after only two tries.

Maybe Chuck was throwing him a guilty little bone there. But hey, he wouldn’t complain.

“Two eleven, wasn’t it?” Dean murmured to himself as he headed down the dingy hallway, wrinkling his nose at the state of the place. No wonder Sam had holed up here with Ruby; the place just screamed ‘cheap and sleazy’, and the hearts on the door containing room numbers didn’t really help contradict that assessment. Once he reached room 211, he stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself. He could do this. It was still Sam…even if this Sam was younger and more innocent. And a Sam that he hadn’t known for nine years.

Suddenly, Dean was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that he couldn’t identify but that seared his insides like fire, and he gasped and had to back away from the door, sagging against the opposite wall. What the hell was he doing? Jumping back in time had never worked out well for them. Who was he kidding by pretending that he could actually change anything? And now, thanks to fucking Chuck, he was stuck in an unfamiliar time with people he didn’t even know, and _what the fuck am I doing_?

 _Man up, Winchester!_ he told himself. _You’re Dean freaking Winchester! You faced the Darkness herself!_

But as terrifying as Amara had been with her hold on him, she was still a monster he’d been trying to gank. Talking to people he knew but who didn’t know him?

“Can’t I just go two rounds with Lucifer again?” Dean complained quietly. As expected, his request was ignored, so he groaned and forced himself to man the fuck up and cross back over to the door. Then, before he changed his mind, he knocked.

“Just a minute!” a female voice called. Dean frowned. That didn’t sound like Ruby’s brunette vessel…unless somehow the timeline had changed enough from his presence that she was in a different meat suit.

Before he could think about it much more, the door opened to reveal a stunning woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, dressed in a white bathrobe that wasn’t tied shut enough to fully hide the fact that she was wearing nothing underneath.

“Oh. Wow.” Dean couldn’t help his eyes automatically flicking down to stare, but he quickly composed himself in time to look back up at her face while trying desperately not to remember his previous dreams starring Cas in lingerie. Yeah, that was something he was just going to bury deep, _deep_ down.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was sharp and slightly rude but not hostile. At least, not yet. Dean cleared his throat.

“Probably a stupid question, but what’s your name?” he said. The woman stared at him like he was an idiot.

“Chantelle. Not that it’s any of your business. Who the hell are you?”

“One more question. D’you know a Sam? Tall as hell, shaggy brown hair, looks like an oversized puppy?”

“No, I don’t. Is that it?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just s’posed to meet my brother but I think I got the wrong room.”

“No kidding,” Chantelle muttered. But as Dean turned to leave, she reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, and he turned around. “But…I think I’ve seen the guy around. I think he’s holed up in 207.”

Dean groaned loudly. “Must’ve misheard,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. Him and his fucking memory. Of _course_ he’d fuck up. Though to be fair to himself, it was surprising that such a tiny detail like that was even still in his brain after nearly a decade. “Thanks, Chantelle.”

Chantelle just nodded and closed the door in his face. Dean took a moment to gather himself, then slowly headed back down the hall and stopped in front of room 207.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, before he raised his fist and rapped on the door. There was no answer. Muttering under his breath, Dean knocked again, and this time he heard the sound of footsteps inside the room. A moment later, the door flew open.

“What?” the man growled before freezing in his tracks.

Dean was also rooted to the spot. God, Sammy was so… _young_. His hair wasn’t long enough to make him look like a chick anymore, his face was smoother and free of the hint of scruff that he’d been accumulating back in the first timeline, and even though he’d no doubt been suffering from Dean’s death, he just looked so much… _lighter_. Like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore.

“Fuck,” Dean said, his voice nearly breaking. Unable to help himself, he surged forward to crush Sam in a tight hug, but Sam jumped back and whipped out his silver knife. Dean could’ve kicked himself. Of course Sam wasn’t gonna just smile and hug him back all lovey-dovey. Just like in the other timeline, he was gonna think that something fishy was going on and someone was trying to fuck with him by using his brother’s corpse.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sam hissed. Knife still held out in front of him, he backed away when Dean stepped forward.

“Sam, it’s me –”

“ _Who are you_?”

“Will you calm down already? Your name’s Samuel William Winchester, born May 2, 1983. I was so excited to have a little brother that I ran all down the hospital corridor and around Mom’s room until I smashed into her bed, and we only know that ‘cause Dad got blind drunk once and told us. When you were six, I was s’posed to protect you from a shtriga but I fucked up and it nearly got your soul. I left you at Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie all the time as a kid, so now you’re terrified of clowns. You went to Stanford to study law and you had an interview for law school when I dragged you off to deal with Constance Welch.”

Sam didn’t say a word as Dean babbled everything he could remember, though he was careful to stay as far back in Sam’s life as he could so that he didn’t accidentally spill something that hadn’t happened yet. Then, after a few moments, Sam took a few cautious steps forward, until he was right in front of Dean.

“…Dean?” he said softly. Dean grinned.

“One and only.”

In the blink of an eye, Sam had Dean’s wrist in an iron grip and was dragging his arm up to slice it with the knife, but all it did was leave a thin cut that trickled blood down Dean’s skin. Dean sighed loudly.

“C’mon, break out the holy water. Get it over with.”

He stood there patiently, letting Sam fumble for a bottle of holy water and splash him in the face with it. When Dean’s only reaction was to spit out the water that got into his mouth, Sam looked like he was actually going to cry. Damn moose. Dean had forgotten how easy it used to be to make him emotional.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said with another grin. “Not bad for a corpse, right?”

He was finally tugged into the tightest hug ever, and it was quite frankly a miracle that Sam didn’t break his ribs with the crushing force of the hug. Dean racked his brain, trying to remember how this interaction went last time, and he realised that he had to kill the mood and accuse Sam of making a deal if he didn’t want to raise suspicion. They’d sold themselves for each other so many damn times that it wasn’t even a surprise anymore, whether in 2008 or 2017.

“So…how much?” he said when Sam finally released him, hazel eyes shining with tears that would’ve definitely triggered a loud groan from Dean if they fell. Sam frowned.

“How much what?”

“How much did it cost to bring me back, Sam? Your soul? Did you sell your soul? Or did you do something else just as fucked up?”

“I – you think I made a deal?” Sam spluttered. He was much softer than Dean remembered him being during the first time this went down; maybe he’d been at the tail end of his demon blood dose and about to relapse last time, or maybe it was because Ruby wasn’t around right now. The thought of his brother being addicted to that stuff left an ugly pit in his stomach, especially remembering how damn impossible it was to convince him to stop and how freaking hard it had been to keep him from relapsing after Lucifer’s release.

“Well, how the hell else could I be up here? Not like I hauled myself out of that place.”

“I didn’t!” a distressed Sam almost shouted. “I wish I’d done it, Dean! I tried _everything_ to get you back. I tried opening the Devil’s Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, but no demon would deal! You were rotting in Hell for months. For _months_ , and I couldn’t stop it. So, I’m sorry it wasn’t me, alright? Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean wilted under Sam’s tirade, which was so much worse this time around after all the other shit they’d been through since this.

“‘S okay, Sammy,” he said quietly. “I believe you. Just had to make sure, especially after –” He broke off, about to say, “after all the other times you fucked yourself over for me”, but Sam was keen and caught the slip.

“Especially after what?” he said immediately. Dean faltered. What the hell could he – wait. Maybe he could –

“Especially after…what I heard in Hell,” he mumbled, looking away from Sam. Sam would think that it was just difficult for him to talk about Hell – which he’d honestly been mostly over for ages, thankfully, apart from the odd nightmare – but he just couldn’t look Sam in the eye and lie again. Especially after all the progress they’d made in the other timeline with their codependency issues.

“What did you hear?” Sam said, then he grimaced. “No, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want –”

“They said shit around me,” Dean interrupted. He paused, skimming the room. “Wait. Ruby’s not here, is she?”

“Ru – how’d you know?”              

“I told you. I heard shit.”

“No, she’s…out. Why?”

“You can’t trust her,” Dean said bluntly. Sam’s hackles started to visibly rise.

“Why not? Dean, she was there for me when you were down there! She did so much to help me when my head was fucked –”

“Like getting you hooked on demon blood?” Dean said. Sam was shocked into silence, mouth hanging so far open that Dean was tempted to stick a finger in there like he used to do as a kid. “I told you I heard stuff, Sam. Look, c’mon – don’t wanna risk her walking in on us.”

He guided a stunned Sam out of the room and out to the motel carpark. When he caught sight of Baby, gleaming and still as gorgeous as ever, he let go of Sam and laughed softly.

“Hey, there she is!” he crowed, approaching Baby and running a loving hand over her side. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?”

Sam wordlessly tossed Baby’s keys to Dean, who unlocked her and slid into the familiar driver’s seat. No matter what timeline he was in, Baby was his one constant – his rock and anchor – and he felt far more comfortable now that he was reunited with his precious girl.

Then he caught sight of the Thing That Must Not Be Named. “The hell is that?” he demanded, pointing at the iPod jack. God, he’d totally forgotten that Sam had douched up Baby, and the sight made him want to both laugh fondly and banish Sam from Baby for at least a month.

“An iPod jack.”

“Dude, if I die and leave my baby girl to you, I expect you to look after her, alright? Not pimp her up.”

“Dean, I thought it was my car,” Sam said softly. He looked so much like a kicked puppy that Dean just sighed and ripped it out to toss into the back seat rather than make a huge fuss over it.

“Right, listen,” he said, jabbing a finger at Sam. “I ain’t gonna start opening up about – about Hell, alright? I’m not gonna do therapy shit. That’s your schtick, not mine. But…”

“But?” Sam prompted. Dean took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to say this without getting called out as a liar.

“I was one of the most important ones down there,” he said slowly. “So, I had the big guns guarding me. And…they talked sometimes. Don’t remember everything they said, but they said something about getting you hooked on demon blood so you could ‘start some sort of Apocalypse’. I dunno, Sammy, I was too busy getting my guts ripped out to really pay attention.”

Sam winced, horror etched on his face. Guilt started to bubble in Dean’s stomach at scarring his baby brother like this but if it’d save him a world of pain later down the track, it had to be done.

“But Ruby said she was wanted,” Sam said. “That Hell hates her for turning her back on them.”

“And what better way to gain your trust than to do that?” Dean said. “I mean, they never actually said her name. They just said something about getting you addicted to demon blood. And it didn’t click until I was pulled out of there and had five minutes to think without being carved open. What demon do we know who’s gained your trust? Ruby’s the only one I could think of. So, I figured that she was the one getting you hooked on that stuff – I just didn’t know for sure. And if only a few of the big bad demons know her plan – hell, I’m pretty sure only Lilith would know, and _maybe_ one or two others – then that’d explain why Hell thinks she’s a traitor and why I never heard her name. If Hell hates her, you’re gonna be more likely to trust her. And if you trust her, you’re more likely to let her get you hooked on demon blood, especially when you’re fucked up ‘cause I’m not here. All she’d have to mention is getting me back or getting revenge for me and you’d be right on board.”

Sam looked thoroughly impressed. Dean wanted to smugly pat himself on the back because hot damn, that was an awesome fucking story if he did say so himself.

“So…you think Ruby’s pulling a Snape?” Sam said slowly. “Playing both sides?”

“Yep. But she’s thrown her lot in with the bad guys.” Dean sighed and slumped in his seat. “Sam, tell me. How much blood have you had already? ‘Cause if it’s like a drug, there’s gotta be withdrawals or something.”

Sam didn’t meet his eyes. “A fair bit,” the tall man muttered. “I only started drinking it a month or two ago. Ruby let me go into withdrawal once, just to show me how horrible it’d be if I stopped. But if she was trying to get me hooked…then it makes sense that she’d want to scare me into not stopping.”

Closing his eyes, Dean sighed.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam added miserably. “I thought you were gone for good, and Ruby – she told me that if I drank it, my powers would get stronger. That I’d be powerful enough to take on Lilith. Then I could avenge you.”

Fuck, this Sam was bringing back all sorts of memories. Dean reached out and clasped his shoulder, a small smile on his face.

“‘S okay, Sammy. We’ll get through this together, like we always do.”

Dean’s mind was thrown back to that Marie girl and her _Supernatural_ play, when she’d played Sam and said that line: ‘the two of us against the world’. It’d always been the two of them. Even when they were pissed at each other – even when they were on opposite sides of the country – it’d still been the two of them, and Dean was starting to wonder if maybe Chuck was right to send him back. And Cas had been part of that for nearly a decade, so Dean was going to be a selfish ass and yank his angel away from Heaven if it was the last thing he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Telling Bobby the next day that he was alive went about as well as it did last time. Despite Sam’s insistence that Dean was himself and not a monster, Bobby was adamant about doing all of the checks before he finally pulled Dean into an almost suffocating hug.

“Missed you too, Bobby,” Dean quipped, though he was struggling with the waterworks himself. It’d been so long since he’d seen Bobby in the flesh and actually _touched_ him, and it was surreal to be back in Bobby’s unburned house while the man who was a father figure to him and Sam hugged him like there was no tomorrow.

“Good to see ya, boy,” Bobby said, clapping Dean on the back before releasing him. “But…how did ya bust out?”

This was where Dean froze. He could’ve said what he did last time: that he didn’t know. But then they’d have had to go and see Pamela to logically make that leap that Cas was the one to bust him out, and the last thing he wanted was for Pamela to lose her eyes again. So, it was time to lie out of his ass again.

“Don’t remember much,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “There was this bright light…I think the guy grabbed me from behind and got my arm –”

He took his plaid shirt off and rolled up his T-shirt sleeve to reveal Cas’ handprint. Sam’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets, while Bobby just stared at it with carefully schooled features. Dean wasn’t sure why he said that Cas held him from behind, other than Cas gripping him tight and raising him from perdition reminding him of the time that Cas had grabbed him when he was a demon and lifted him out of that as well.

He suddenly shivered, missing how they’d seemed to take every opportunity to even casually touch each other and how Cas had had an almost intentional unawareness of personal space, especially when he was around Dean. It was so…empty without him around. Even when Cas was flitting off, Dean still knew that he was alive and could technically come back anytime he wanted.

“And I think he tried to talk,” Dean continued, shrugging his plaid back on as they headed into the living room. “Couldn’t hear much through the ringing in my ears. But I got one word: Castiel.”

There. He’d successfully kept Pamela out of this, so now she didn’t have to go blind from stubbornly trying to see Cas’ true form. He couldn’t help but feel a stab of pride at how well he was doing.

“Castiel? The hell is that?” Sam said.

“Dunno,” Bobby said. “But right now, I care more ‘bout the guys I haven’t seen in months. Plural.”

Sam ducked his head, avoiding Bobby’s eyes “Sorry,” he said. “Just…these last few months haven’t really been easy, y’know?”

“Ever stop to think that they ain’t been easy for me either?”

Sam winced at that, still looking down. Dean was about to tell Bobby to cut Sam some slack but Bobby got in first, hugging Sam tightly and patting him on the back.

“Good to see ya, Sam,” Bobby said. Sam grinned at him but then, to Dean’s alarm, stumbled as Bobby released him.

“Sam?” Dean said, immediately by his side. Sam waved him off.

“I…think it’s wearing off,” he said. Dean really didn’t like how pale and clammy his little brother was.

“What’s wearin’ off?” Bobby said. Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“You may as well tell him,” Sam said finally. “I’m just gonna –” he winced, “– go shut myself in Bobby’s room and wait for it to pass.”

Bobby waited until Sam was gone before rounding on Dean. “The hell’s up with him?” he demanded.

Dean sighed. “You’re not gonna like it.” He told Bobby about Ruby and the demon blood. By the end of his explanation, Bobby was about ready to spit fire.

“I ever get my hands on that demon, she’s good as dead,” he growled. “Knew she was rotten from the start.”

“So did I, Bobby,” Dean said with a helpless shrug. “But Sam was so damn set on saving me that he let her fuck with him. I’m just glad I got it early enough. If it’s bad enough for him now, I don’t wanna think about how bad his addiction would be later on after drinking gallons of the stuff.”

He winced when a long, low groan wafted downstairs; no doubt Sam was in the throes of withdrawal right about then. But it was better that he got it out of his system now; his withdrawals when he was full-on hooked on the stuff had been absolutely heartbreaking.

“Shouldn’t’ve let him go off alone,” Bobby said guiltily. “He was dead-set on it but I shoulda tried harder.”

“Hey,” Dean scolded. “If anyone’s gonna do the self-pity shit, it’s me. You know you can’t stop the kid once he puts his mind to it.”

They lapsed into silence, trying desperately not to listen to Sam’s pained cries.

“I wanna summon Castiel,” Dean said. “Talk to him face to face. Didn’t really get a chance when I was – when I was down there.”

“Ya sure he’s not a demon?” Bobby said. “‘Cause I wanted ya salted and burned – usual drill – but Sam wouldn’t have it. Said you’d need a body when he got ya back home somehow, then he went real quiet and took off. So when ya showed up on my door with him, first thought was that he finally found a demon to deal with him.”

“Cas isn’t a demon,” Dean said firmly. Bobby shot him an odd look and he winced. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to know who the hell Cas was, let alone be nicknaming him. “They worked their asses off to get me to Hell and then no demon would trade with Sam to get me back out. Why would one suddenly say yes?”

“‘Cause they got what they want and figured that Sam’s soul would be a nice prize? Lilith and her groupies hated him, remember?”

Dean grimaced at that. “Look, if he is a demon then we gank him. And if he’s not, we find out what he is and why he saved me. Be good to have someone powerful enough to haul me outta the Pit on our side. I mean…you should’ve seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. Then he tried to speak to me at a gas station and ended up blowing up any breakables. Nearly blew up my ears too.”

A particularly loud wail from Sam made them both wince sharply.

“First things first, we wait for Sam to detox,” Bobby said. “In the meantime, we’ll get the right mumbo-jumbo to summon this Castiel."

* * *

Thankfully, Sam wasn’t hooked enough on the demon blood to make his detox as painful as it had been in the other timeline; it was still torture to listen to his pained cries and moans, but he wasn’t screaming bloody murder like last time, and all of the blood was out of his system in a few hours. By the time the pale, trembling moose returned downstairs, Dean and Bobby already had all they needed to summon Cas.

“Got it all outta your system?” Bobby said. Sam nodded shakily.

“Yeah. Think that’s the last of it.” He doubled over, groaning. “Hold on.” He stumbled into the kitchen. Dean winced at the sound of his brother retching.

“Poor kid,” he said. “If I ever run into that bitch again, I’m gonna kick her fucking ass.”

Bobby nodded grimly. Sam returned at that moment, paler than before and wiping traces of red away from his mouth.

“Now it’s gone,” he said hoarsely.

“Good,” Bobby replied. “‘Cause we’re gonna summon this Castiel and find out why he pulled Dean outta Hell.”

“Are you crazy?” Sam demanded. “We don’t know how powerful he is! What if he’s a demon and he decides to kill us all just for the hell of it?”

“Doubt it,” Dean said. “Doesn’t make sense for him to go to all that effort to pull me out if he’s just gonna throw me back in. We need answers, Sammy.”

 _I need to see him again,_ he added to himself. His mind conjured an image of the other Cas, in his stupid trench coat with his head tilted to the side, blue eyes squinting like Dean had just made a reference he didn’t understand…and then the image inevitably shifted to his corpse, sprawled brokenly on the ground with a bloody hole through his chest and his wings burned into the ground beneath him.

Traitorously, Dean’s body decided to let out a small sob. Sam and Bobby immediately latched on to this.

“What’s wrong?” Sam said. Dean angrily swiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly.

“Dean –”

“Drop it, okay?”

It was a mark of how emotionally constipated Dean had been his whole life that Sam immediately obeyed, though he was still eyeing Dean like he wanted to drag Dean off for interrogation. The thought of interrogation, of course, summoned the memory of their six-week imprisonment by the FBI, and Dean growled to himself and shoved the thought out of his head. He was _not_ dealing with this shit right now.

“I know a place we can use,” Bobby said. “‘Bout a half hour drive but it’ll be big enough.”

They headed out after triple-checking that they had everything, with Bobby ahead in his own car and Sam and Dean in Baby. But one thing was still eating at Dean.

“Why were you in Pontiac the day I got out of Hell?” he said. If Sam explained this last time, he didn’t remember one bit. “Could just be a coincidence but I don’t believe in ‘em. Not after all that Apocalypse talk.”

“Hunting Lilith.” Sam looked uncomfortable, like he was expecting Dean to jump down his throat at the mere reminder of the path he’d been going down. “That’s why I let Ruby get her claws in me that much. She said that the demon blood…it’d make me stronger and that I should train with it before taking down the Big Bad so that I’d be powerful enough.”

“Makes sense,” was all Dean said. Sam’s shoulders sagged.

“So we started hunting down demons, trying to train my powers so that I could…exorcise them. And eventually kill them.”

Dean regarded Sam for a moment. “Well, I can see why you’d let her give you that shit,” he said. “But it’s not worth it. How much blood would you need to take down Lilith?”

They grimaced at the same time, though for differing reasons. Dean couldn’t help but remember Sam, juiced up on gallons of blood with black eyes and a snarl on his face, and relief flooded him at having averted that crisis.

“I know you said not to go down that road,” Sam said. “It was practically your dying wish. And I felt like I was betraying you by doing it but – but I –”

“Sam, I get it,” Dean said firmly. “Quit tryin’ to justify yourself. You made a shit choice for what you thought was the right reason. How many times have we done that before?” Hell, after all the shit choices Dean had made, he really had no room to judge.

Meanwhile, Sam grinned sheepishly and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Right. So, uh…we were checking these demons out of Tennessee the other day but they took a hard left out of nowhere. We tracked them to Pontiac yesterday.”

“When I busted out.”

“You think those demons were there because of you? But why?”

Dean shrugged. “Hell if I know. But once we summon this Castiel, what d’you say we go take care of ‘em? You and me?”

“What, just like the old days?” Sam said sarcastically, though he was still grinning. Suddenly struck by a wave of affection for his brother, Dean reached out and clapped Sam on the shoulder.

“Damn right. Just like old times. ‘Cause I’m back and I’m ready to gank some sons of bitches.”

It was at that moment that things went to shit. Baby’s radio suddenly flicked on, giving off loud static and whines while Sam frowned and fiddled with the dial to try and fix it. Dean’s eyes widened.

“Oh, shit.”

He just managed to get Baby parked on the side of the road when the familiar high-pitched sound that he’d heard at the gas station started up.

“What _is_ that?” Sam shouted, hands clamped over his ears as the sound got louder and higher. Dean just groaned in agony, clutching at his ears as he sagged over the steering wheel and braced himself against the shattering glass around him…and then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the sound cut out. Deafening silence fell over Baby’s broken body and the two men inside.

“What. The. Hell?” Sam gasped, uncurling himself from his ball and poking gingerly at his ears, which were lazily oozing blood.

“I think that was Castiel,” Dean said dazedly. Man, how long had it been since Cas had last done that to him? Nice to know that some things stayed constant no matter what he did to change things. “C’mon, let’s go see how Bobby is.”

“You want to summon Castiel after _that_?” Sam said as they got out of the car and stumbled over to Bobby’s, where the man was struggling out of the driver’s seat while clutching one ear. “Dean, he was barely here and look what he did! We don’t even know what the hell he is, or even if he _is_ a he!”

“I’m with Sam,” Bobby said. “Ya really wanna be summoning something like that?”

“I want answers,” Dean lied. _I want to see Cas again,_ he added to himself. _I have to see that he’s alive. I gotta know I can get him back._

 _Get him back?_ a nasty little voice said. _You mean rip him away from his family again?_

 _We’re his family,_ Dean argued. _Shut the fuck up. He said so himself. He – fuck, he said_ that _word to us._

_Us? Or you?_

Dean struggled to come up with a rebuttal but found that he’d been thoroughly owned by his own brain.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked and shook his head. Sam and Bobby were watching him, identical looks of concern on their faces.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just got freakin’ church bells in my ears.”

“My point exactly!” Sam said. “You can’t seriously want to summon Castiel when he did this without even appearing to you!”

“I want answers,” Dean repeated. “And I don’t see anyone else around with them. Do you?”

“We’ll find another way of getting these answers,” Sam said stubbornly. “Dude, you just came back from the dead and you’re acting like you want to jump right back in your grave!”

Dean snorted, unable to deny his general lack of shits given about keeping himself alive. “Look, I’m doing this whether you’re with me or not,” he said. “So you can stay here or tag along to try and keep me from croaking again.”

It was a low blow, but it did the trick: Sam’s mouth drooped, and his shoulders sagged.

“Fine,” he said. “But at the first sign of danger, we’re getting the hell out of there.”

“Deal.”

“Glad I’m not this fuckin’ dysfunctional,” Bobby drawled.

“No, you just threaten to run Dad down with a shotgun because he was an ass to you,” Sam shot back immediately. Dean snorted loudly.

“Ladies, ladies,” he said. “We can have this catfight later. Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

* * *

The barn that Bobby led them to was different to the one that he and Dean had used the first time around, but it was about the same size. Painting the signs and sigils went quicker this time with Sam’s help, even though Dean was sorely tempted to say that none of these symbols would actually do anything – but that would mean revealing that he knew Cas was an angel, and Chuck would probably smite his face if he revealed his future knowledge.

 _Can’t just make this easy on me, can you?_ Dean thought. Almost as though in response, his dully throbbing ears stabbed sharply, and he hissed and winced. _Freaking seriously, Chuck?_

“You okay?” Sam was on him in an instant, can of paint in one hand and Dean’s shoulder under the other.

“Fine. Just my ears being a bitch. Seriously, I’m fine,” Dean added before Sam could even open his mouth. “Go finish your art project, Samantha.”

Sam shot him Bitchface #37 (yeah, Dean had labelled them. So?) and returned to painting.

Eventually, it was time to summon Cas. Dean couldn’t stop fidgeting nervously as Bobby said the incantation to summon him and then they played the waiting game, just like last time.

“Are you sure you said the words right?” Sam said. Bobby shot him the exact same look that Dean had been given in the original timeline, while Dean tried not to snort loudly and wonder if Chuck was getting a good laugh out of this.

Just like last time, Cas announced his presence by making the barn rattle loudly, though the sound of wood rattling was markedly different to rattling metal. When the doors burst open and Cas once again strode in like he owned the place with his trench coat billowing around him, Dean had a very different reaction to the first time this had happened. While he’d reacted with fear the first time, this time he was filled with a deep, overwhelming mixture of relief, tear-jerking joy, and complete and utter arousal. Holy shit. He hadn’t been able to appreciate just how fucking sexy Cas was the first time, but he wasn’t blinded by fear this time and so the sight of Cas literally making sparks fly between them was definitely shooting to and being stored deep in his spank bank.

Jesus Christ, he sort-of had his best friend back and the first thing he thought of was dick – specifically, said friend’s dick. He was so going to Hell again.

“Castiel?” Sam said, raising Ruby’s knife. Belatedly, Dean realised that Cas was peppered with bullet holes from Sam and Bobby shooting the shit out of him like Dean and Bobby had done the first time. And of course Dean had stood there like a useless sack of shit, because being confronted with Cas in Dom mode had promptly liquefied his brain.

“Yes.” Cas regarded Sam with that familiar head-tilt. Dean had the sudden, near-uncontrollable urge to burst into loud (and definitely manly) tears as the realisation that _his friend was back_ sank in…and yet, this wasn’t really Cas. Not the Cas he knew, anyway. “Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood.”

It was almost surreal to see the evolution of Sam’s face from cautious to stricken to pissed. Dean might have been angry if not for the knowledge that Cas could and did grow out of this. No thanks to Dean’s shit, though.

“Who the hell are you?” Sam snarled.

“You just said my name.” Cas looked straight at Dean and said those fateful words that had defined their tumultuous relationship over nearly a decade. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth was suddenly drier than the Mojave Desert. Letting his tongue dart out to moisten his lips, he managed to croak out the same words he’d said in response to that the first time around. “Thanks for that.”

Cas stared at Dean for another moment, then reached out for Sam and said, “We need to talk. Alone.”

“Hey, whoa, whoa!” Dean jumped forward and grabbed Cas’ arm. The look on Cas’ face was rather akin to the look a rich elite might give a homeless person, and Dean had to fight down the sudden strong urge to punch Cas in the face. Yeah, okay, Cas was alive again, but this wasn’t _his_ Cas. The sooner he realised that, the less heartache he’d face later on. What was the guarantee that Cas would fall again with Dean messing up the timeline? Hell, did Dean even want to fuck up his life like that? Cas deserved better than slumming it with a couple of fucked-up mud monkeys, especially considering all the shit that had happened to him as a result of choosing them over Heaven.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice sliced through Dean’s brain fog. “Let go of my arm.”

Dean mentally shook himself and looked Cas right in the eye. His stomach churned at the bright blue, both hauntingly familiar and yet painfully unfamiliar. “You’re not doing shit to Sam and Bobby,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever you got to say, you can say it in front of them.”

Cas regarded him for a long moment. Was he going to smite Dean for being insolent? Unbidden, Cas’ face swam into clear view in Dean’s mind – but it wasn’t this Cas’ face. It was _Dean’s_ Cas, a small, rare smile crossing his lips as he regarded Dean with a fondness that Dean had no business receiving from anyone, let alone an angel of the Lord. Before his mind’s eye, Cas’ smiling face then melted into the dead one that had been plaguing Dean ever since arriving back in 2008, and Dean gasped and staggered away from Cas.

“Dean?”

Dimly, Dean registered that Sam had a hand on his arm, not controllingly but firmly enough to keep him upright. He had to wrench his gaze away from the startling blue of Cas’ eyes before he lost his shit and broke down, but he was still forced to wipe his sweaty face with a trembling hand.

“Sorry,” he croaked. “Flashback.”

“Of Hell?” said Cas – no, Castiel. This wasn’t Dean’s Cas. Who was he kidding? “You shouldn’t remember anything of your rescue. I ensured that.”

“Thanks for that, buddy.”

“What _are_ you?” Sam demanded. Behind Castiel, Bobby had his knife in hand but wasn’t making a move yet. Before Castiel could do his dramatic “angel of the Lord” revelation, however, Dean had to totally steal his thunder.

“Angel. He’s an angel.”

Silence suffocated the barn. Castiel looked slightly pissed, probably that Dean had upstaged him and taken away his dramatic reveal. Sam’s eyes bulged, while Bobby looked like the only thing approaching normal with his look of utter disbelief.

“You sure you’re right in the head, son?” he said.

“An _angel_?” Sam’s voice was soft with awe, despite having been insulted by said angel just moments ago. “Oh my god – er – I didn’t mean to – sorry – it’s an honour, really, to meet – an _angel_!” He made an odd move, like he wanted to hold out a hand and shake Castiel’s but remembered in time that he was half-supporting Dean.

“I’m glad that you’ve ceased your…extracurricular activities, Sam Winchester,” Castiel said coolly. Sam looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Hey, lay off him,” Dean said, pulling himself free of Sam’s grip and crossing his arms. “Like you’re such a perfect saint either.”

“I am not a saint. I’m an angel. And your view of saints is vastly incorrect. None of them were perfect –”

“Am I the only one not buyin’ what he’s sellin’?” Bobby said. “Come on. An _angel_?”

Lightning flashed and, just like the first time around, the shadows of Castiel’s massive wings flared around him. Sam looked about ready to get down on his knees and worship and Bobby looked close to throwing his hands up and giving up on life, but all Dean could think of was how his Cas’ wings had still been torn and mangled beyond repair. Did he really want to fuck Castiel up this time around? Of course he wouldn’t even let Metatron take a look in Castiel’s direction, but it wasn’t like he could control everything that was going to happen. If Castiel lost his wings again because of Dean…

“Are those really your _wings_?” Sam said.

“An approximation. Humans cannot see my true form or hear my true voice without being…overwhelmed.”

“The gas station,” Dean said, practically following what he could remember of the script by this point. His insides were icy numb, flashes of his Cas attacking his mind, and the only thing stopping him from having a breakdown was the thought of trying to think up an excuse for it when Sam and Bobby were already suspicious that there was something up with him. “And Baby. That was you. Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”

“That was my mistake,” Castiel said. “Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”

“So, what visage is…that?” Sam said, waving a hand vaguely at Castiel. Castiel blinked and looked down at himself, almost like he was unaware of his body.

“This? This is…a vessel.”

“You’re _possessing_ someone?” Sam said, aghast. Dean froze where he stood. Oh, fuck. Jimmy Novak was still alive at this point in the timeline. This wasn’t Cas’ body; this was Castiel’s vessel, and Dean couldn’t let Jimmy get screwed over again. There was no way he could live with himself, especially with the years of pain Claire had gone through. He couldn’t just let Jimmy get stabbed painfully to death while Amelia went off to “find herself” and Claire was left to fend for herself on the streets. And…he couldn’t do anything with Jimmy still in there. That was totally uncool when the guy couldn’t consent to anything.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Vaguely aware that there was a script he was supposed to be following, Dean said, “So, why the hell would an angel rescue me from…well, Hell? After all the shit I’ve done? All the trouble I’ve caused? All the goddamn lives I’ve ruined? You’re telling me that whoever’s up there took a look at me and thought I deserved another chance?”

When had his scripted response turned into a genuine rant to Chuck? It wasn’t like he was expecting Chuck to answer, in any case, but it was pretty therapeutic.

“Dean –” Sam began.

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel said.

Shaking his head, Dean looked Castiel right in the eye and channelled every tiny ounce of grief, heartbreak, and utter despair at the future into his voice when he said, “Not in my experience.”

Castiel frowned and tilted his head, studying Dean, and man if that didn’t kick Dean right in the gut. “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Dean let out a choked laugh and shook his head. “Buddy, if you think I’m the one to save over anyone else, your boss has no goddamn idea.”

“God commanded it, Dean.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “We have work for you.”

In Dean’s mind, he could just see Chuck, that fucker, laughing his ass off. Oh, Castiel had no goddamn clue how right he was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Dean? Dean!”

Dean blinked and peered at Sam almost curiously, like Sam was a fascinating specimen that Dean was trying to examine under a microscope.

“What?”

“You okay, man?” Sam released Dean’s shoulder and stepped back. Huh. When had Sam grabbed him? “You’ve been spacing out all case.”

Had he? That was surprising. Seeing Meg Masters and Henriksen and Ronald again hadn’t triggered some traumatising flashback – Dean had made peace with their deaths years ago – but he didn’t expect to just…zone out. Maybe it was the effort of trying to remember how everything should be going. The longer he could keep things the same as the original timeline, the more useful his future knowledge would be.

“Sorry,” Dean shrugged. “But hey, no one died, ghosts got ganked, boom.”

“Dean,” Sam said, and he was using his goddamn “therapist voice” that hadn’t changed in nearly a decade, so Dean could tell he meant Serious Business. “Is it – are you –”

“Hell flashbacks?” Bobby said, leaning against the desk that Meg Masters had crushed Sam with. Sam shot a severe look over his shoulder, but Bobby just shrugged. “What? Wanted to get to the point.”

“Uh – yeah, that’s it.” Dean seized the excuse, grateful that Sam was inadvertently helping the charade. “Just, uh, some shit I saw down there. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Dean –”

“Who’s hungry?” Dean said loudly to drown Sam out. “I’m starved. I could go for a burger after that slice of ‘face your past and own it’ bullshit. Yeah, Sam, I’ll get your salad shit. And Bobby, I won’t forget the beer. Be back in a bit!”

He was out of the house before a stunned Sam or Bobby could say anything, and he managed to hold it together until he was able to slide behind the wheel of Baby.

“You could at least help, you colossal dick!” Dean yelled, banging his head on the steering wheel. “I’m down here tryin’ to keep it together without telling them, and you’re off on another fuckin’ two-thousand-year vacation!”

Predictably, there was no reply, though that also included none of the stabbing pain shooting through Dean’s head whenever he blasphemed the Almighty Chuck these days. Growling to himself, Dean started the car and pulled away from the house on his quest for food.

The rest of the night was rather subdued. The only sounds that permeated Bobby’s house was those of chewing and crinkling fast food wrappers, along with the turning of pages as Sam read through some angel lore crap that was still way over Dean’s head despite having had access to the bunker for years. And yeah, that was starting to weigh on Dean as well; as amazing as it was to have Bobby’s house back again, it just wasn’t home like the bunker was. Dean had a _bedroom_ for his things, and a _memory foam_ mattress! He had a kitchen of his own! Privacy! Their own books! A dungeon! Memories!

The knowledge that the bunker was still there and hauntingly empty but inaccessible without the key that wouldn’t come for another five years was like a constant thorn in Dean’s side. And when that key did come, it would be accompanied by a hell bitch who had led to the clusterfuck mess of the Mark of Cain, the Darkness, the British Men of Letters, and Lucifer getting free to wreak havoc and then eventually have a little crotch fruit.

Dean paused in his chewing of his mouthful of burger. What was the deal with Amara? Was there still an Amara to free in this timeline? Or did freeing her in his timeline free her across the board? But if his timeline had been erased, did that magically undo her prison break? And was Death still dead, or had he only been killed in the other timeline? How did omnipresence work? God, his head was starting to ache.

“Dean?” Sam gently shook Dean’s shoulder. Dean blinked and started.

“‘M fine,” he said. “Seriously, quit askin’. I’m just…thinking. About stuff.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Bobby drawled. Dean smirked weakly and flipped him off. “Look, Dean, ya know none of us do this feelings bullshit. Well,” he added, side-eyeing Sam, “most of us. But if talkin’ would help ya –”

“Trust me, it won’t,” Dean said. “There’s literally nothing I could say to you that would help. Just…let me deal with my shit, okay?”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “We just don’t want you to…well…”

“Go batshit crazy?” Dean said dryly. “Sammy, I think that ship sailed long ago.”

Later that night, as Sam snored softly on the couch, Dean fidgeted on the floor and couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen. What exactly had happened in the previous timeline? Once he was actually in the situation, most of the important stuff generally came back to him, and he suspected that there might be a little bit of divine intervention with that bit. But beforehand, he was at a loss to recall a lot of the details of what had happened. Admittedly, that was fair, since it _had_ been nearly ten years since he’d first gone through this.

A sudden, familiar rustling that he hadn’t heard in years reached his ears, and Dean stiffened but pretended to still be sleeping. Through narrowed eyes, he made out the dark shape of a trench-coated silhouette in the kitchen, and his stomach swooped. Oh, that was right. He’d had that confrontation with Cas after the Witnesses and basically went around in circles trying to get blood out of an angel-shaped stone. And that…probably wasn’t the best metaphor after – yeah. Dean winced and tried not to remember his best friend’s corpse, which had been haunting his nightmares quite a lot lately. Sam, the naïve little thing, thought they were just Hell nightmares. At this point, Dean would’ve preferred to dream about Hell rather than constantly reliving Cas’ death at the hands of Lucifer and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it.

Giving up any pretence of sleep, Dean climbed to his feet as quietly as he could and quickly checked to make sure that Sam was still asleep before tiptoeing into the kitchen to join Castiel. The angel examined him for a moment, face blank, and Dean suddenly wanted nothing more than to reach out and shake Castiel violently until he remembered everything they’d been through over the past decade. But that wouldn’t work. There wasn’t anything for Castiel to remember because he hadn’t even experienced it yet. The knowledge made Dean want to just bury his face in a pillow and scream.

Before he could stop himself, Dean reached out and wrapped Castiel in the tightest hug he’d given in years, clinging to the angel like this would be enough to transfer knowledge of the other timeline through osmosis. It was a very close call not to start breathing in Castiel’s scent like a creep and breaking down into a girly speech about how much he’d missed Castiel, but Dean thankfully managed to contain himself. Cas would’ve loved that, wouldn’t he? But this was Castiel, not Cas. Cas was gone and even if this Castiel fell just like Cas, he still wouldn’t be that Cas.

That still wouldn’t stop Dean from loving the absolute shit out of him, though.

“Why are you squeezing me with your body?” Castiel said slowly.

“Oh.” Dean stumbled back, frantically trying to think of an excuse. “I, uh – it’s a hug. I just wanted to thank you, you know? Not everyone would go through literal Hell for my sorry ass. Kind of owed ya a thank-you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing my duty,” Castiel said. “I was following orders.”

The realisation that this wasn’t Cas hit Dean like a tonne of bricks. Yeah, he’d already gotten several harsh reminders of that, but there was a huge difference between knowing it in his head and knowing it in his heart. And his heart had just painfully caught up with his head.

“I – well, thanks for that,” Dean said gruffly, madly casting his mind back to how this had gone last time. Thankfully, whatever divine force that had been helping him was still working with him. “I thought you guys were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos – you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks.”

Had that been exactly what he’d said last time? Damn, he was killing this. Maybe Chuck was throwing him a bone.

“Read the Bible,” Castiel said. “Angels are warriors of God. I’m a soldier.”

_“The moment Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!”_

Dean blinked and resisted the urge to shake his head to clear Hester’s shrill screech. Had she been right? Was Castiel already starting to doubt? He _had_ given that speech about not being a hammer not long after this, Dean remembered. So did he just have to keep chipping away at Castiel? It had worked the first time, so why wouldn’t it work now?

 _Assuming you want to fuck Cas’ life up again,_ said the nasty voice. Dean flipped it off mentally, but he couldn’t get rid of the sudden pit in his stomach.

“Then why didn’t you help us with the Witnesses?” Dean said, poking Castiel in the chest. Castiel looked down at his shirt like Dean had soiled it just by daring to touch it.

“I’m not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns.”

_“Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”_

“Larger concerns? What about the people getting torn to shreds here?” Dean said. He was almost speaking uncontrollably by this point, like his mouth was just following whatever script Chuck wanted him to follow. “And where the hell’s your boss in all this? You’re telling me God’s really out there?”

“There’s a God,” Castiel said. Dean could almost see Chuck’s smirk in his mind’s eye.

“Well, he clearly doesn’t give a fuck,” Dean snapped. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left us to deal with all this shit!”

“The Lord works –”

“If you say, ‘mysterious ways,’ so help me, I will kick your ass,” Dean rattled off in one breath. Castiel just shrugged and held his hands up in surrender, and the gesture was so painfully _Cas_ that it was like being kicked in the stomach by a demon.

“We’re here because there are big things afoot,” Castiel said. “I doubt you want to know what things, but you need to know.”

Their exchange about the Apocalypse and the sixty-six seals went largely the same as last time; at least, Dean assumed so. He was too busy letting his mouth take care of the talking while his brain tried to reconcile Castiel with Cas because dammit, who else saw their best friend die before their eyes and then got thrown back into the past where their best friend was once again a colossal bag of dicks?

“Bang-up job you’re doing, stopping Lucifer,” Dean said, suddenly irrationally pissed. How dare Castiel just stand there and be a dick like that? After everything Dean was giving up? “Stellar work with the Witnesses.”

Castiel’s jaw set. “We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost. Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.”

Before Castiel could flap off, Dean snorted loudly. “How about you do the right fuckin’ thing instead of being a big chicken?” he said. Castiel’s eyes flashed a dull blue in the darkness as he took a step towards Dean and yeah, he was _pissed_ if he was doing the grace thing. But Dean’s self-preservation instincts had long flown the coop.

“I _am_ doing the right thing,” Castiel snarled. “You think I should just let Lucifer walk free? Is that your definition of right?”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” Dean growled. “You know exactly what I mean. You can do the right thing without being Heaven’s little bitch!”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, putting on his “Dean, you are in so much trouble” face. If they’d been together, that face would’ve been a sign of Dean’s ass about to be red raw and dammit, why was he thinking about fucking the angel right now?

“Oh?” Castiel said. “Enlighten me, if I’m ‘putting words in your mouth’.”

“God fucked off, Cas. You really think he’s still around if he’s letting this happen?” Dean swept an arm around the kitchen, his blood boiling. “He’s gone on vacation and left everyone, so the angels are throwing a tantrum and dicking with humans ‘cause they can. And if God _is_ around and letting all these people die? Well, is that someone you really wanna put your faith in?”

The look that Castiel gave Dean was nothing short of pure, Arctic cold fury. “What do you suggest I do, then?” Castiel said frostily.

Dean opened his mouth to make some grand, amazing speech that would no doubt win him an Oscar or something, but what came out was, “The right thing. If you’re gonna be a dick, be a dick ‘cause you want to. Not ‘cause the other dicks are telling you to.”

Castiel examined Dean for a long moment. Just when Dean was starting to wonder if he was going to get smote into the kitchen floor, the angel disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving no trace that he’d been there in the first place.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, wondering if it was too late to go and throw himself into the Empty like Billie had threatened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Dean?” Sam skidded into the motel room to see Dean sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, fighting off the impending headache that usually came with dealing with Castiel these days. “The hell were you, man?”

“I think ‘when’ would be a way better question,” Dean mumbled.

“What?” Sam sat down next to him. “What do you mean, ‘when’?”

Exhaustedly, Dean lifted his head to meet Sam’s eyes. “1973. Cas zapped me back to when Mom made the deal with Azazel, to show me what happened. He – he killed Dad and said he’d bring him back if Mom let him into the house ten years later. To give you the demon blood.”

Sam didn’t look nearly as surprised as he should’ve. Belatedly, Dean realised that Sam had already known since Azazel had abducted him and taken him to the demonic Hunger Games, a detail that had slipped his mind until now.

“You knew,” he said.

“Yeah.” Sam looked away. “For about a year. Since Cold Oak. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

Well, Dean couldn’t really be mad at him without being a massive fucking hypocrite about his current circumstances. And besides, now that he could look at things with a clearer head and without the haze of betrayal that had clouded him last time, he could see just why Sam might not have wanted to tell him something like that.

“I get it,” Dean said. “I ain’t happy that you didn’t tell me for a freaking year, but…I get it. Not exactly something I’d want to parade around either.”

Sam’s look of utter relief made Dean unable to help but grin. Sam grinned back, but the smile quickly slipped off his face.

“But – why?” he said. “Did you find out why?”

“He didn’t say.” Sure, Dean could’ve used his future knowledge and said that Azazel wanted to prime Sam for Lucifer under the guise of “I was there and you weren’t, so I know more than you” but he wouldn’t have put it past Chuck to fry his brain for spilling about the future. Hell, his head was already starting to throb ominously, as though warning him to be careful what he said. “He just said something about making you big and strong. Probably why Ruby was training you, right?”

“Y-Yeah.” Sam’s sudden, deep interest in the carpet had Dean squinting suspiciously.

“Sam? What happened while I was gone?” he said. Sam exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair, which was shaggy but nowhere near as long as it would be in the future. Okay, this was serious business; Sam never made his hair even messier than it usually was unless he was super stressed.

“I ran into Ruby,” Sam said in a rush, the words tripping over themselves as they escaped his mouth. “I swear, I didn’t go looking for her!” he added when Dean made a sudden, involuntary move to jump off the bed and tower over him. “I was out looking for you and she found me!”

“Then what?” Dean said, crossing his arms. He really wanted to believe that Sam was telling the truth, but Sam had been a sneaky little bastard about this stuff last time around; case in point, the nursery bleeding thing. He couldn’t be sure if Sam was only telling him this to pretend to be innocent, to reassure him that nothing was going down with Ruby.

“She said something about ditching her in Pontiac.” Sam jumped up and started to pace. “I told her that you were back and I was hunting with you again. She got a bit snarky that I left her and I’m not – not doing the demon blood anymore. Asked me how fun it was going through withdrawal.”

Dean winced. Ruby always was a little snake, and taunting Sam about that was enough to make Dean want to go and shiv her himself.

“I told her I was done with that,” Sam continued, still pacing. “I didn’t want to do the demon blood. It was like – like playing with fire. Then she got up in my face and started going on about how I was saving so many people with my powers and I was _selfish_ to just give them up because of a little ickiness. And I almost gave in, Dean, I almost let her give me her blood again!”

“But you didn’t, right?”

“No! I nearly did, but I told her to leave me alone and I didn’t want that anymore. I nearly told her about what you heard in Hell, but I didn’t want to let anything on to her. She got super pissed and yelled that I’d regret it when everyone I loved was dead because I refused to get my hands a little dirty. Then she took her knife back and left, and I got here about half an hour after that and you were here.”

Dean studied Sam for a few moments. His brother did look genuinely distraught, without any of that cunning slyness he’d shown the first time around. And hell, Dean wasn’t going to go stalking him to catch him in the act and betray his trust like that. If he really was getting it on with Ruby, it’d be obvious soon enough now that Dean knew what to look out for.

“I believe you,” he said. With those three words, Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he shot Dean a wide, relieved grin.

“Thank you,” he said. “I was worried you’d think I was faking it or something.”

Man, had the hero worship really been that bad? Maybe Dean had grown too accustomed to future Sam’s budding independence, because this Sam was still pretty codependent. He needed to figure out how to wean Sam off it without driving him away.

“If you were, I would’ve figured it out eventually,” Dean said.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed and sat down. “So…what happened back there? Er, then?”

Dean recounted his adventures in 1973 and by the end of it, Sam’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Mom, a hunter?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds,” Dean said. “That woman could kick some ass. She nearly put me on the ground.”

_“I hate you. I hate you. And I love you. ‘Cause I can’t – I can’t help it. You’re my mom.”_

“How’d she look?” Sam said before Dean could start wallowing in his future flashbacks. Flashforwards? Was there even a proper term for the shit he was going through? “I mean…was she happy?”

“Yeah, she was awesome,” Dean said. “Funny and smart. So hopeful.”

Just like the Mary from 2017. So hopeful for her family…that she ended up abandoning her sons because she couldn’t handle the fact that they’d grown up as hunters and she’d missed thirty years with them. Sure, Dean might have made his peace with her, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. Especially with the realisation that, since he wasn’t going down the Amara path again, he was never going to get to have his mother back. She really was gone for good, both in the other world and erased timeline and in this one too.

_“I forgive you. For all of it. Everything. On the other side of this, we can start over, okay? You, me, Sam. We can get it right this time.”_

It wasn’t until Sam shot him a strange look that Dean realised that his cheeks were suspiciously damp and his eyes were stinging.

“Dean? You’re…crying,” Sam said, immediately sitting down next to Dean. “You never cry. What’s going on, man?”

“Nothing,” Dean said, his voice cringingly thick. He coughed and wiped his cheeks. “Nothing. Just…thinkin’ about what we could’ve had. Mom…Dad…”

“Our grandparents,” Sam added, mouth drooping. “Yeah. Our whole family murdered, and for what? So Yellow Eyes could get in my nursery and – and bleed into my mouth? We shouldn’t have been born. _I_ shouldn’t have been born.”

“Don’t say that,” Dean said automatically. “Trust me, things would be way worse off if we weren’t born.” _The world would’ve gone to hell in a handbasket with the Apocalypse. Just like in that other world. Where – where Mom is. Was. Shit, she doesn’t exist anymore. Everything I said –_

“Something Cas showed you?” Sam said. Dean jumped.

“Yeah – something like that.”

Sam frowned and tilted his head. “Are you really okay, Dean? You’ve been zoning out ever since you came back. Is it just Hell stuff? Or is something else going on?”

“Don’t you worry, little brother.” Dean forced a grin and clapped Sam on the back. “Just hell shit.” Not technically a lie to call his crap hellish; if things were supposed to be better, he was currently being screwed over on that promise. “But your big, strong, handsome brother’s gonna get his shit together, and so are you with this demon blood stuff.”

“Right, because we’re the Winchesters,” Sam said sardonically. “Not the Losechesters.”

“How dare you.” Dean jabbed a finger in Sam’s face. “Don’t you ever talk to me again. Hell, don’t you even dare enter my presence again after that pun.”

Sam laughed and slapped Dean’s hand away, which only made Dean jab him again, which eventually culminated in them rolling on the ground and laughing loudly as they attempted to wrestle the other into submission. Naturally, Dean won…at being completely owned by his bigger moose of a brother.

“Okay, okay, get the hell off me, you sasquatch,” Dean groaned into the carpet. “You need to go on a diet.”

“I’m not the one who lives on a diet of burgers, pie, coffee, and bacon,” Sam shot back. “I’m not getting up until you give.”

“What the fuck else can I do when your fat ass is on top of me?”

“Nuh uh, I wanna hear the words.”

“Better write a eulogy then, ‘cause I’d rather suffocate than do that.”

Yeah, so this Sam wasn’t the Sam he’d been through a decade of shit with. This Cas was back to factory settings, acting like a total bitch with none of the free will or experiences he’d gone through. And Dean would probably never see his mom again until he died, assuming he even got into Heaven (which had to be part of the package deal, or he was shoving a complaint straight up Chuck’s divine ass). But suddenly realising just how young and hopeful this Sam was compared to 2017 Sam filled Dean with the sudden, stone-set determination that this Sam wasn’t going to know the pain that future Sam had gone through. This Sam wasn’t innocent by any stretch of the word, but Dean kind of missed seeing a spark of hope in his brother’s eyes that wasn’t accompanied by dark cynicism.

* * *

True to Sam’s words, Dean was distracted all through the rugaru case in Carthage, though not for the reasons Sam thought. But hey, if Sam wanted to keep thinking that Dean was just severely traumatised by Hell, Dean wasn’t exactly going to argue; it saved him trying to explain his odd behaviour without arousing Sam’s suspicion.

“I’m fine,” he said when they pulled off at a motel a few hours away from Carthage. “Seriously.”

“Are you sure?” Sam’s face took on that sympathetic therapist face he got when he went into ‘let’s psychoanalyse Dean’ mode. “I know the case must’ve been hard on you on top of your flashbacks.”

Hard was one word for it. Dean had known. He’d known that Jack Montgomery was going to turn into a rugaru, and that Travis would kidnap Jack and his pregnant wife and try to kill them. He could’ve helped Jack; saved him from turning in the first place. But no matter what he’d done, things had played out almost exactly the same as last time; the only difference was that Dean knew what was going to happen. Why the hell couldn’t he have done anything?

“I need to go for a drive,” he blurted out. “Clear my head. I’ll probably be a few hours.”

From Sam’s face, Dean could practically read what was going through his mind: _Hell stuff_. Man, Chuck might have been a dick about shoving him literally six feet under as an introduction to this new timeline, but at least he’d provided Dean with the perfect excuse to be acting so goddamn weird to anyone who wasn’t from 2017.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I get it. Just…if you need to talk to me, I’m here. You know that, right?”

Dean gave a dark laugh. “Sammy, I don’t think I could even begin to explain what’s going on inside my head.”

There was no clear destination in Dean’s mind as he approached Baby, but the minute he slid into the driver’s seat, he knew exactly where he had to go. He had to go and see Chuck. Sure, the Chuck Shurley from this timeline probably wasn’t _his_ Chuck, but he was still God and Dean still needed a primordial deity to yell at.

A few hours later, Dean was pulling into Chuck’s driveway. He was apprehensive as he knocked on the door – what the hell was he going to say if this God didn’t know him? – but the second Chuck opened the door and Dean got a look at him, Dean could tell: he knew.

“Dean,” Chuck sighed. “I’m surprised you held out this long, to be honest. What with your penchant for diving headfirst into getting answers…”

“Thanks for that,” Dean said with a bitchface to rival Sam’s best. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t have a choice either way, do I?” Chuck said, a sardonic little smile on his face. Dean glared as he slipped past Chuck into the house.

“You’re mocking me,” he said. “After all the shit I’ve been through, you’ve got the nerve to stand there and mock me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Chuck swept a stack of paper off the couch so that Dean could sit. “I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m always a sucker for a joke, and this is probably the greatest inside joke I’ve ever been part of.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your existence is just a massive rain cloud otherwise,” Dean said. He squinted at Chuck as the man – deity – sat down next to him. “How the hell do you exist in this timeline too? I thought there was only one God, capital-G.”

“There is,” Chuck said. “But I can be anywhere and anywhen I want. My consciousness can be in several places and times at once. Don’t ask how that works because I’ll probably make your brain implode with the physics of it. Literally.”

“How considerate of you,” Dean drawled. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be such a dick to the literal personification of creation but hey, Dean never claimed to make good decisions when he was in a bad mood. Or a good mood. Or just in an alive mood, generally. Hell, he’d probably make shit decisions even when dead.

“Look, I want to congratulate you.” Chuck’s voice brought Dean back down to earth. “You steered Sam away from the demon blood. You’re already doing a great job!”

“So…he’s not gonna do it again?” Dean said. “Nada? He’s actually keeping his promise?”

“I think you using your time in Hell to pull at his heartstrings did the trick,” Chuck said. “Man, that was a great plot device. You always were the master of eliciting emotions from others, even if you’re irrationally allergic to them yourself.”

“Uh, thanks. So…my timeline? It’s…gone?”

“Yep.” Chuck sighed and leaned back, resting against the couch cushions. “Erased. Like it never existed. So I came here, since I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. The me-consciousness in this timeline was pretty understanding.”

So his Sam and Cas really were gone. Dean wasn’t even going to pretend to be upset at wiping all the shit they’d done, but…he’d been through that shit with them. They’d grown and changed together. And now he’d been thrown back a decade with a naïvely-hopeful Sam and a pissy, pole-up-the-ass Castiel, but he was still _him_. The shit he’d been through was gone, yeah, but the person he was because of that shit was still around. And he couldn’t talk to anyone except the douche next to him, who was also the reason preventing him from telling people in the first place.

“Oh, don’t be so sad,” Chuck said, studying Dean’s face closely. “You get a second chance with Sam. Isn’t that, like, the perfect dream?”

“It’s not the same!” Dean jumped off the couch and towered over Chuck, fists clenched tightly. “It’s not – I miss _my_ Sam! I love this Sam, yeah, but he’s not – he’s not mine! He hasn’t been through all that shit – Hell, Leviathans, the trials, Abaddon, Cain, Amara, the Men of Letters…Mom. He has no idea. And I can’t fucking talk to him because not only will you not let me, he wouldn’t understand!”

“Dean…”

Breathing heavily, Dean turned away and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t even have any fucking greys anymore. The thought of getting to be younger would usually have filled him with excitement, like when that Hansel and Gretel witch had cursed him, but now it was just another thing to be shoved in his face as a reminder of the situation he was in.

“Why?” Dean mentally congratulated himself when his voice just managed to avoid cracking. “Why’d you send me back? Why couldn’t you have brought Cas back and – and let us get Mom back and just –”

“It would’ve only covered up the real problem,” Chuck said. The bastard actually had that wise look of understanding on his face that made Dean want to punch his pearly whites down his divine throat. “Things weren’t going to get better, Dean. Every time one of you died or got lost in another dimension and I brought Cas back? Shit just hit the fan again, and it got messier and messier each time. I would’ve just been putting a band-aid on the problem.”

Dean snorted darkly and crossed his arms, sitting back down on the couch. Screw Chuck for making sense. Damn him to Hell.

“Things are _better_ now, Dean. Sam’s soul is intact. He doesn’t have to go through everything he went through last time. And neither does Cas. He can still get the whole ‘free will’ package without having to go Godstiel and get brainwashed and…yeah, you know what happens next. If I’d brought Cas back, you would’ve done exactly what you’ve been doing for years, then one of you would’ve died and not been able to come back. But now you don’t have the Empty to look forward to!”

“Didn’t we kill Death?” Dean said, squinting at Chuck. Death’s…well, death was the only reason Dean had been threatened with the Empty, since Death had found their constant resurrections amusing. If Chuck was implying what Dean thought he was implying…

“Dean, you can’t kill _Death_ ,” Chuck said with an insufferable air of patience. “You just pissed him off, so you’d better hope that the bit of Death imprisoned in this timeline doesn’t know or realise what happened.”

“Great,” Dean muttered, his earlier fears confirmed. “On the topic of cosmic annoyances, you’ve been screwing with my head, haven’t you?”

“That would be interfering with your free will,” Chuck said. His smirk made Dean want to hit something very, very hard. “No, I haven’t been controlling you. I’ve just been…nudging you whenever you don’t remember what you need to say. You’ve been the one saying it, but I’ve been…let’s say, helping you remember. You know, like prompting your lines from backstage.”

“And the headaches?”

Chuck shrugged. “What can I say? My ego doesn’t like being insulted and blasphemed. I never claimed to be perfect. Plus, it’s the perfect way of letting you know you’re saying too much without actually appearing in those weird togas they used to wear and acting like – well, God. And the burning bush thing was all Gabriel. He was going through a bit of a phase.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Chuck examined Dean for a long moment. “Look,” he said. “You’re right. I’ll admit, you’ve been shouldering more than any one person should. I didn’t exactly think this through when it came to what you’d be feeling.”

“God can’t connect with the peasants,” Dean said with a dark snort. “News at eleven.”

It was probably for Dean’s best health that Chuck ignored his dig. “You want your mom back?” the deity said. “Like, _your_ mom? I can do that. But not yet!” he added, holding a hand up when Dean opened his mouth to either scream or laugh incredulously. “I can’t bring her yet.”

“What? Why? You can do that? Why didn’t you –”

“Think, Dean,” Chuck said. “It’s hard enough for you to keep up the charade in your younger body. Now think back to the rollercoaster ride that Mary just went on over that year. You think shoving her into another new time and expecting her to cope when you just had that BM scene with each other is a good idea?”

Dean had to very grudgingly admit that Chuck was right. Whatever he was going through, it would no doubt be ten times worse for Mary, who didn’t have his years of coping with cosmic bullshit that enabled him to keep himself together this long. He hated to say it but tossing a barely-recovering Mary into another time and forcing her to go along with the charade would probably make her snap. And she’d had a shit enough time doing that in a timeline where she didn’t have to pretend like Dean had to do now.

“I’ll get her out of that other place,” Chuck said. “Honestly, it’s a good thing she got sucked in there with Lucifer. When I sent you back, the entire timeline was erased…but that world exists independently of your timeline, rather like the one Zachariah sent you to with the Croatoan apocalypse. So your Mary is still alive and very much kicking.” His eyes unfocused for a moment. “Literally. You definitely got the good Campbell genes. I’ll get her and keep her with me until I think it’s the right time to put her in here with you. Think of it as…a reward, if you will.”

“You’re using my mom as blackmail?” Dean exclaimed.

“Not blackmail,” Chuck said before Dean could hit him. “An incentive. I know it’s been pretty tough for you, Dean, and you haven’t had that much to look forward to, what with the whole ‘your Sam and Cas are gone for good’. So if you do a good enough job in this timeline, I’ll give your Mary back to you. That way, you won’t have any more impending doom slash apocalypses slash things out for your blood – beyond the usual monsters, that is. You see what I meant when I said that it would’ve just been covering up the problem? It still would’ve been one disaster after another. Spoiler alert for the old timeline: it would’ve been Apocalypse 2.0. Trust me, this was the best choice you’ve ever made. You stop this disaster and the Raphael nonsense, you can stop everything else from ever happening. What you do afterwards? Entirely up to you.”

Dean stared down at the floor. Chuck was right. Oh, it hurt to think, but he was completely right. Every single time they tried to do what they thought was right, the world went to shit even more. And though Dean didn’t want to admit it, he knew he would’ve been an absolute emotional wreck in the aftermath of Cas’ death, having to deal with the spawn of Satan – aka the whole reason Cas died – and whatever drama the universe decided to throw his way. Coming back to fix things from the root was the best thing he could’ve done, for both himself and the world; hell, that hope that he could save Sam and Castiel from that shit was the thing keeping him afloat in the first damn place. They might not be his Sam and Cas, but he could make sure they never ended up as fucked-up as they did in the other timeline. And he still loved them as much as he’d love any Sam and Cas.

“If that’s all, I think you’d better leave.” Chuck clapped his hands and stood up, making Dean jump with the sudden sound and movement. “I’m temporarily blocking Raphael, so he can’t hear us – you know, since I’m a prophet and all and get an archangel bodyguard – but he’ll catch on if I keep it up for too long. I have some books to write.”

Sheer panic flooded Dean’s body. Shit, the _Supernatural_ books! “I thought you said I had to keep this shit a secret!” he protested, voice slightly higher than he was proud of. “And now you’re just gonna go out me as –”

“Dean.” Chuck rolled his eyes hard. “Calm down. I’m God. I might have to write what’s been happening to keep up prophet appearances, but I don’t have to mention that you travelled back in time. Not yet, at least. I can save that reveal for the grand climax. The fans’ll love it; all the clues were there, but they didn’t see it.”

“Thanks,” Dean said reluctantly. He went to head for the front door but stopped when a thought occurred to him. “Oh, and you better not bring Becky into this in any way like you did last time. If I gotta sit through another love-potioned Sam, I’m out.”

“That wasn’t my finest moment,” Chuck admitted. “You’ve got a deal. Now seriously, you need to leave before Raphael starts to notice. If I need to talk to you again, I’ll probably do some divine dream stuff.”

“Lucky me,” Dean muttered as he headed for the door. “This is exactly how I wanted my life to turn out.”

But as he pulled away from Chuck’s place, Dean had to admit that the guy was right. Things might still be shit, but they were less shitty than in the other timeline. Over there, Dean was fumbling in the dark. Here, he could fix things, and hopefully get his mom back in the process.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> CW for this chapter: not rape or anything, but there’s definitely violation of personal space that’s 100% non-consensual. But really, with this character, that’s to be expected. Same with the misogynistic language they use, which I really hate.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Dean!” Sam closed the motel room door behind him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Dean! How the hell did you get here without the car?”

“Ran.” Dean sank down on the bed and gave a crazy little laugh. Chuck had to be fucking with him. This was totally unfair. Was he really that much of a dick that he had to go through this ghost sickness _again_? “What happens now? I got less than four hours on the clock. I’m gonna die, Sammy.”

“Yeah. You are,” Sam said. Dean froze and stared at Sam, wondering what the hell was going on. Was this the yellow-eyed Sam hallucination he’d had last time? Of course he’d remember _that_ vividly a decade later. “And good riddance!”

“Sam?” Dean held his breath, his heart furiously racing, expecting Sam’s eyes to turn yellow at any moment. But they never did.

“You really think you can make things better by coming back and being God’s little butt buddy?” Sam said with a derisive laugh. “Why, do you feel responsible? You should. It’s all your fault anyway, you know.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue but found that he couldn’t draw in the breath to respond. Something was very wrong. Why wasn’t this hallucination yellow-eyed Sam like last time?

“He’s right,” another voice said. Dean’s head whipped around and his heart stopped right then and there. It was Cas. Not Castiel from this time; it was _Cas_ , with the ugly new trench coat and the striped tie and everything. The only thing out of place was the ugly sneer marring his face. “I mean, whose fault is it that I’m dead?”

“Cas,” Dean managed to choke out.

“Come on, Dean,” not-Cas said. “Like you don’t believe that you’re not to blame. I’m just telling you what you already know. But then, you’re a coward, aren’t you? You already know this, but you won’t dare face it. Why would you?”

“Because that would involve Dean actually owning his feelings.” Not-Sam was grinning just as hideously as not-Cas. “And we all know he’s too scared to do that. So he’s trying to change things, isn’t he? He’s trying to make sure that that stuff doesn’t happen.”

“There’s just a small, small problem with that,” not-Cas said. He was across the room in an instant and straddling Dean’s lap, and Dean knew that he wasn’t real but by god, he _felt_ warm and real to Dean’s delirious mind. “How do you know you can change things, hmm? Why fight for free will when you’re trying to control what happens? But then, you’ve always been a raging hypocrite.”

“Sam do this, Sam do that,” not-Sam said mockingly. “But Dean can do whatever he deems ‘necessary’, right? Even though he’d pitch a fit if I did that? And _he_ can beat himself up over his fuck-ups, but heaven forbid _I_ call him out!”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember Gadreel,” not-Cas said, pouting and tilting his head. “And I also remember being abused by Dean for daring to do the hard thing to take down Raphael…but it was so very _necessary_ for Dean to take the Mark of Cain, right? And woe betide anyone who dared to try and talk to him about it!”

Dean tried to argue, to say that he’d learned and he was letting Sam go and be independent in the original timeline, but it was taking all his effort to just keep breathing and try to stop his heart from exploding.

“Dean was all set to do the Trials of Hell so I wouldn’t,” not-Sam said. “And you would’ve died, wouldn’t you?” he added, addressing Dean directly. “You would’ve insisted on curing Crowley and shutting the Gates of Hell. But no, when it’s me on the line, who cares about the greater good? Who cares about saving lives when it’s baby brother Sam in danger?”

“Leave me alone!” Dean yelled. “You think this shit doesn’t get to me? You think I haven’t beaten myself up every single day? You think coming back and doing this all again is _easy_?”

Not-Cas leaned in closely, filling Dean’s nostrils with the scent of fresh rainstorms and ozone. How the hell was this hallucination so real? Before not-Cas could say anything, he disappeared, as did not-Sam. The real Sam immediately swam into view, shaking Dean by the shoulders violently.

“Dean!” he was saying. “Dean, hey, hey. Dean, you okay?”

Dean exhaled deeply before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back on the bed.

* * *

If Dean had a choice, he wouldn’t have chosen to stay behind while Sam and Bobby went to take care of the thing that had infected him with this damn ghost sickness. But rationally, it was as good an idea this time as it had been the first time; Dean knew he was nearly due for his death hallucination and tagging along for the ride would only serve as a distraction. Besides, it also meant that he could put off having to deflect Sam’s questions, because not-Sam and not-Cas were sons of bitches who were totally right in calling Dean a coward and Dean really didn’t want to talk to Sam about why he’d been yelling about coming back and doing things again.

Chuck wouldn’t really let him die though, right? Dean honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.

It was at that moment that Sheriff Britton burst into the room, delirious with his delusions of being taken down over Luther Garland’s death and close to dying himself. Just like last time, all Dean could do was watch helplessly as Britton’s heart gave out and he collapsed to the floor in the throes of a heart attack, the ghost sickness claiming his life.

And Dean was next. The Lilith hallucination hadn’t been far behind this. Only, it wasn’t going to be a Lilith hallucination, was it? Dean wasn’t even remotely scared of Lilith and Hell anymore; he’d come to terms with the shit he’d done in Hell. Though he wouldn’t ever be proud of the fact that he’d liked torturing souls in Hell and he’d still think of himself as a piece of shit, the prospect of going back to Hell no longer ate at him like it had the first time around. And since this ghost sickness was making him see his worst fears…well, he had a sliver of an idea who might show up. Not that he was scared of the _person_ ; rather, what that person could do and everything they _had_ done.

“Well, well, well,” said a voice that made Dean sick to his stomach. Well, shit. Turned out he was right.

“You’re not real,” he snarled, scratching at his inflamed forearms while his heart began to pound painfully once again.

“Congratulations.” Not-Lucifer lazily sauntered over from the door, his familiar shit-eating smirk on his face as he clapped mockingly. “Deanie can tell the difference between reality and fantasy. But that doesn’t matter, does it? You’re still going to die.”

“Like hell!” Dean said. Wow, he’d forgotten just how painful this whole impending heart attack had been. “Chuck won’t let me die.”

Not-Lucifer threw his head back and gave a long, loud laugh. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He clenched a fist and jerked it towards the ground, and Dean suddenly found himself flat on his back on the bed, unable to move. “It’s cute, how you’re still putting your faith in Daddy dearest. Reminds me of, well…me.”

“Fuck off,” Dean gasped out. He couldn’t even clutch at his chest to try and alleviate his hammering heart, since not-Lucifer had him stuck thoroughly to the bed. How the hell was a hallucination doing this?

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” not-Lucifer pouted. Swinging a leg onto the bed, he crawled up until he was hovering over Dean’s body, then lowered his hips to straddle Dean and keep him pinned. Dean struggled to break free, bile rising in his throat, but not-Lucifer had him quite thoroughly immobilised.

“I’m nothing like you,” Dean forced out. “You’re just trying to get to me.”

Not-Lucifer laughed again, while Dean’s vision started to swim as his heart rate skyrocketed out of control. “True,” not-Lucifer said. “That’s not why I’m here. You fear me, Dean.”

“Like fucking hell I do.”

“Oh, no, I’m slightly off. You’re not scared of moi.” Not-Lucifer pointed at himself, once again grinning. “You’re scared of what I can do to the people you love. Like what I did to Sam and Castiel, right?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Dean bellowed, trying with all his might to buck not-Lucifer off. Not-Lucifer laughed loudly again.

“Aww, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” the hallucination said. “You know, you’ve always been an odd one, Dean. You were never scared of me, but you were always terrified of what I could do. Remember how deliciously scared you were of what I’d done to Sammy in Hell? How he was having mental breakdowns and dying because of me?”

Unbidden, Dean’s mind flashed back to the hallucination-stricken Sam, with bags under his eyes and limp, greasy hair from lack of sleep. He’d fought so hard to keep Sam’s mind together, and for what? For Cas to just blow the wall down like it was nothing, then transfer the madness to himself out of self-loathing guilt.

“Ah, yes,” not-Lucifer said, just watching Dean’s slow breakdown with a smirk. “Little Castiel. The stupid son of a bitch who thought he could handle mere hallucinations of _me_. Who let me into his body because he wanted to be useful to _you_!” Not-Lucifer paused and pretended to think. “Hey, I guess I got to be inside that little angel before you. Kind of sucks, eh, Deanie?”

Dean growled out something unintelligible, trying to resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut to cope with the rhythmic throbbing of blood in his ears. No way was he giving Lucifer that satisfaction, even if this wasn’t actually Lucifer.

“It wasn’t nearly as fun for him as it was for me, let me tell you. I mean, I was so tempted to bed you while wearing Castiel and just let him watch. Give him that hope that he could have you before reminding him that he was _mine_ and he was never going to have that, then kill you messily with _his_ hands. That would’ve really been the icing on the cake.”

Not-Lucifer leaned down, his rancid, sulfurous breath wafting across Dean’s cheek as he whispered, “Do you reckon you would’ve said no if you knew? Or would you have taken whatever you could get from my slut of a brother, even if I was the one with the reins? I reckon he would’ve let you make him your little bitch. He was so eager to whore himself out to you…but you knew that, right? You were just too much of a coward to ever say anything – oh, sorry, it was ‘never the right time’.”

“ _Shut the fuck up_!” Dean roared at the top of his voice. Not-Lucifer just laughed, the sound starting to meld with the rush of blood in Dean’s head as his heart inevitably pumped its way to its doom. At this point, he couldn’t even tell if this was stuff Lucifer had really been thinking, or if Dean’s fears were just taking control. Because he was weak, and if Cas had presented himself, Dean wouldn’t have thought that anything was wrong, apart from the usual self-worth issues that he’d practically patented by now. But not-Lucifer was wrong. There was no way in any hell that Dean would’ve slept with Cas if he wasn’t one hundred percent Cas. The guy had been screwed over by consent and possession before. Of course, none of that mattered since Dean was probably going to die within the next minute.

“Good job putting your faith in Dad, Dean,” not-Lucifer said. He stroked Dean’s cheek, then laughed and slapped it like Dean would slap Sam on the back, and Dean couldn’t even care because his vision was swimming and his chest was about to explode. “He really came through for you with this one. I gotta say, I’m pretty honoured to be your biggest fear, even if it’s not _me_ you’re scared of.” Not-Lucifer’s eyes glowed red and he leaned down and hissed, “And now you get to die alone and end up back in the Pit. Oh, but you like hurting others, don’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have hurt Sam and Castiel so much. I guess you’ll fit in just fine back down in Hell. Little Deanmon making a comeback, am I right?”

“No…” Dean choked out. Not-Lucifer just grinned widely and rested a palm on Dean’s chest.

“Hear that?” he murmured, eyes still burning red. “That’s the sound of your worthless life about to be snuffed out. Shall we count heartbeats? I hear that was very effective when your Lilith hallucination did it.”

Dean’s heartbeat grew louder and louder in his ears, and his lungs started to constrict like they were encased in iron. He gasped in dregs of air, eyes squeezing shut, trying desperately to cling to life and keep himself out of Hell – _fuck you right up the ass, Chuck –_

Suddenly, air rushed into Dean’s lungs like he’d been drowning and had just surfaced. He opened his eyes as his heart started to slow back to a normal rate, no longer thumping in his ears, and his whole body sagged in relief when he saw that not-Lucifer was gone.

“Oh my god,” he panted, lifting a trembling arm to flop across his chest. “Nice fucking timing.”

There was no answer, of course. Dean struggled to sit up, noting that his forearms were no longer itchy, and sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening that that would be the last time he’d ever have to deal with this ghost sickness. _Man, I knew I was a dick, but I didn’t think it’d be_ that _bad._

“Cas,” he mumbled. “Cas, please. Wanna see you. Need to know you’re alright.”

He waited with bated breath, but of course Castiel didn’t show. Of fucking course. Maybe growing used to Cas coming every time he called had been a mistake. This time, it wasn’t so much a sharp realisation that this was Castiel and not Cas, but rather a dull addition to that realisation. But where the sharpness had stabbed him in the gut, the dullness was like being slugged by a tank demon wearing a bodybuilder and wanting to really fuck him up.

With a groan, Dean hunched over and buried his face in his hands, using every ounce of energy he had to avoid breaking down. This was so damn embarrassing; he’d had more near-breakdowns since coming back to 2008 than in the past few years. What sort of a man was he?

That was how Sam and Bobby found him an undeterminable amount of time later. When the door quietly opened, Dean looked up to see the two men standing in the doorway, regarding him with looks of either sympathy or worry. Maybe both.

“Dean?” Sam said slowly. “You alright?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean was up and across the room and throwing his arms around Sam in the space of a few seconds. Sam stiffened but eventually returned the hug, swaying on the spot in Dean’s embrace.

“Uh…thanks?” Sam said. “I didn’t know you were a hugger.”

Awareness suddenly flooded back to Dean. He released Sam quickly, clearing his throat, and pushed past Sam and Bobby with a mumbled excuse about meeting them outside. Was he really that much of a dick to Sam that a _hug_ made him suspicious? Then why the hell did he come back when it was clear that no one even wanted him here?

“Dean.”

Dean sighed loudly and turned to see Sam, that look of sympathy-worry having intensified.

“Can we not?” Dean said.

“Dean, I’m worried about you.” Sam crossed his arms. “You were yelling something about coming back and doing this all again when you had that first hallucination. And now you’re being all touchy-feely with me? What did you see?”

“What, can’t a guy be nice to his brother?” Dean tried to joke, but it fell flat and they both knew it.

“You never hug me unless one of us nearly died,” Sam said. “Or actually did die, which I can’t believe I’m really saying. Man, our lives are messed-up.”

 _You have no idea,_ Dean thought, snorting mentally.

“So obviously that hallucination was something big.” Sam put on those therapist puppy dog eyes. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Trust me, not about this.”

“Look, I get that – you know, Hell isn’t something you’re proud of. I get that you would’ve seen shit. But I wanna help, Dean. You don’t have to carry all this alone.”

“I appreciate it, Sammy.” Dean reached out and clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Really, I do. But for the time being, I do have to carry it alone. And – shit, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this – you’re helping just by being there and not gallivanting off chugging demon blood. Really helps my state of mind, you know?”

Sam gave an awkward smile-grimace. “Just remember, I’m always willing to listen,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. You done tryin’ to psychoanalyse me, bitch?”

“Jerk.” Sam rolled his eyes to high heaven, but he was smiling. “C’mon, I think Bobby wants to hit the road again. We should go say bye.”

“Why, so he can talk shit about me?” Dean said, but he followed Sam with a small smile of his own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

When Dean came to, it was to the sensation of his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat and the feel of coarse rope chafing his wrists, which were bound above his head. Where the hell was he? He was at some high school Halloween party, trying not to arouse suspicion for being at said party in the first place when he wasn’t a teen – how he’d pulled that off, he had no idea – and there was a hex bag in the couch cushions –

“Great,” Dean groaned as his memory came rushing back. He’d remembered who the Samhain witch was and gotten the hex bag from her and saved her victim, whose name evaded him after a decade. But of course he’d ended up being clubbed over the head when he got out of there. Because the universe just didn’t think he’d been through enough shit.

When the door behind him creaked open, Dean pasted the most shit-eating grin he could muster on his face and kept his eyes fixed dead on the witch as she strolled into his field of view. The witch returned his grin with a deadly beam of her own.

“Goddamn hunters,” she said. “Always having to meddle.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, the feeling’s mutual,” Dean said, tugging on his ropes. Was that a bit of give? The witch just laughed.

“Well, Jenny was going to be my second sacrifice, but I guess you’ll have to do,” she said.

“Right, because summoning demons works so well. Trust me when I say they’ll always stab you in the back – and I’d know.”

“If this is the ‘you don’t have to do this’ speech, you can save it,” the witch said in amusement, while Dean struggled furiously with his bonds and tried not to let on that he was doing that. “My master’s been waiting long enough. And once I’ve sacrificed you, that sasquatch with you will be next.” She put on an exaggerated look of pondering. “That does work out well for us, doesn’t it? I was worried that people would connect the dots to sweet little Tracy, but murdering two total strangers? No one would even suspect.”

“Us?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “So there’s more of you?”

“I think we’re done here. Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick for you.”

Dean’s bonds gave way just as Tracy turned to her table to snatch up a knife. Taking the tiny element of surprise he had, Dean dived at Tracy and tackled her to the ground. Tackling a witch, however, was never usually a good idea, and Tracy had Dean pinned on his back with the knife against his throat in a few seconds.

“Oooh, a fighter,” Tracy grinned, shifting to straddle his hips. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“People usually buy me a drink first,” he said. Tracy laughed.

“You won’t need a drink where you’re going, honey.”

Just before Tracy could slit his throat, Dean lashed out and socked her in the face, making her shriek and drop the knife against his neck. It still slashed him when he struggled free from under her, but it didn’t kill him dead like he was half-fearing.

“You son of a bitch!” Tracy screeched, but those were her last words; Dean grabbed her knife and drove it through her heart before she could recover. He stood over her, panting, as she gurgled and died at his feet.

“I fucking hate witches,” Dean muttered, wincing and pressing a hand to his stinging neck. “Least it isn’t Rowena.”

The thought of Rowena made him wince. Sure, she was a colossal bitch, but she _had_ stuck her neck out for them several times. Not even she deserved to be bashed into grey matter and fried to a crisp by Lucifer. Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts, then turned and stumbled out of the basement before he could start feeling too sorry for Rowena.

* * *

“You _what_?” Sam exclaimed after patching Dean’s throat up next to the Impala. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m bleeding to death,” Dean deadpanned, pointing at his neck. “I’m fine, Sam. She just got me by surprise.” Though not for the reasons Sam would’ve been thinking. “C’mon, we can talk more when we get back to the motel.”

The drive was a short one, but it seemed to drag on forever after the shit Dean had just been through. Sam was straight into nerd mode as soon as they walked through the door.

“Did she say why she needed sacrifices?” Sam said, leaning down to pull some books out of his bag. “Why she killed Luke Wallace?”

“Something about a ritual. She mentioned Samhain,” Dean lied. This was just one of those times where he’d have to bullshit in order to use the information he had. Though he did leave out the part about this being a Lucifer seal since there was no way the witch could’ve known that, so Dean shouldn’t have a clue either. “Oh, and she said ‘us’ and mentioned a teacher. I’m thinking there’s another witch in on this.”

“Samhain, Samhain,” Sam muttered, frantically flipping through a book. He paused. “Okay, I think I found something. Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st.”

“Halloween,” Dean said. “And she said she was doing some sorta ritual. She mentioned her ‘master’. You reckon it’s –”

“Samhain?” Sam said. “Looks like it, doesn’t it? I mean, he’s the whole origin of Halloween in the first place. The Celts believe that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain’s night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago.”

“And now some witch – sorry, witches, plural – want to bring him back,” Dean said. “Dude, how much power would you need?”

“From reading this and the hex bag we looked at earlier?” Sam said. “A _lot_. This is deep, heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years.”

“And let me guess,” Dean said. “That’s tomorrow.”

“Yep. Dean, we have to stop it. If Samhain rises, he can do some raising of his own. Dark, evil crap, and lots of it. I mean, they follow him around like the freaking Pied Piper. Everything we’ve ever fought, all in one place.”

“Great,” Dean said. “I need a drink. We should swing by the school and talk to someone about Tracy. Maybe we’ll find out something about the other witch that way, especially ‘cause she mentioned a teacher.”

“Good idea,” Sam said.

“Well, I would hurry if I were you,” an unpleasantly familiar voice said. Dean groaned and turned around.

“Well, if it isn’t Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” he said, crossing his arms. Castiel’s face remained blank but the angel with him – Uriel – regarded Dean with a look of utmost contempt. Next to Dean, Sam looked like he was close to either falling to his knees and worshipping the angels or punching them, which Dean supposed he couldn’t blame Sam for; he’d want to punch someone if they judged him based on demon blood too.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, voice as monotonous as usual. “Hello, Sam.”

“We don’t have time for human pleasantries, Castiel,” Uriel said.

“If you’re here to play Mommy and Daddy, you don’t have to check up on us,” Dean said. “We’ll find the other witch and stop the next two sacrifices.”

“Next one sacrifice,” Castiel said.

“Sorry, what?” Dean said. “Only, she was gonna use me as a sacrifice and I –”

“Killed her instead,” Castiel said. “So her partner took advantage of her death and used her as the second sacrifice. They only need one more sacrifice, no thanks to you.”

Dean swore loudly.

“And if we hadn’t found this inside the wall of your room?” Castiel held up a hex bag. Dean swore again. “One of you would have been that last sacrifice. Whoever this second witch is, they know exactly who you two are and they planted this hex bag while the both of you were gone.”

“It’s gotta be one of her school teachers, like I said before,” Dean said to Sam. “Who else is she gonna have contact with for them to know that? Especially ‘cause I didn’t even talk to her or anything. She must’ve realised who I was at the party.”

Okay, so Dean’s reasoning was a little flimsy, but hey, sue him. He was making this shit up as he went.

“Why do you even care about this?” Sam said. “Dean told me about the sixty-six seals and how that’s the only thing you guys care about.” His eyes widened. “Wait. Are you saying –?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “The raising of Samhain is one of the seals. We have to prevent this seal from breaking at all costs.”

“Okay, so we’ll find this second witch and –”

“Why are we making this matter more complicated than it has to be?” Uriel said with a deep sigh. Dean was suddenly reminded of how much he hated the guy, though not as much as Zachariah. He paused. Oh fuck, that dickbag was alive.

“Okay, who are you and why should I care?” he said, crossing his arms. It was totally worth it to see the annoyance flicker across Uriel’s face.

“This is Uriel,” Castiel said. “He’s what you might call a…specialist.”

“What kind of specialist?” Dean said, even though he already knew the answer. “What is he gonna do?”

“You – uh, both of you – need to leave this town immediately,” Castiel said. “We’re about to destroy it.”

“ _What_?” Sam burst out. “You’re – you can’t –there are over a thousand people here!”

“Yeah, angels are really that much better than the commoners,” Dean drawled. “Can’t fix something? Just blow it all up and pretend you’re doing the right thing. Who cares about the mud monkeys, right?”

“Well, if you had done your job right in the first place, we wouldn’t need to do this,” Castiel said acidly. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? Then why didn’t you step in and help if we’re so imperfect, instead of perching on our shoulders? At least we’ve been getting shit done _and_ saving people’s lives, which is more than I can say for you.” Okay, so he was maybe being a bit of a dick to Castiel. But to be fair, Castiel was being a dick right back.

“At least neither of us were captured and nearly sacrificed,” Castiel said coolly. “I have much more faith in our abilities than in yours.”

Dean’s eye twitched. He opened his mouth to say something so scathing that he and Sam would probably get smote, but Sam grabbed his arm in warning.

“Look,” Castiel sighed. “I understand this is regrettable.”

“ _Regrettable_?” Dean spluttered. In that moment, he vowed to do whatever it took to turn Castiel into Cas. Yeah, there’d still be that lingering guilt over ripping Cas away from Heaven, but…anything had to be better than remaining such a colossal dick that one was willing to smite a town of a thousand people. Where was the Cas who watched the bees and saw the beauty in humanity and just… _loved_?

“We have to hold the line,” Castiel said. “Too many seals have broken already.”

“So, you fuck up your job and a whole town has to pay for it?” Dean said.

“It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here, and if Lucifer rises, hell rises with him.”

Dean’s eye twitched again. It was like talking to a fucking brick wall!

“We’re wasting time with these mud monkeys,” Uriel said. Dean wished he could ram an angel blade down the dick’s throat.

“I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” Castiel said.

“No!” Sam said, eyes wide. “You can’t do this! You’re angels! I mean, aren’t you supposed to – you’re supposed to show mercy!”

“Says who?” Uriel said.

“We have no choice,” Castiel said. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Wow,” Dean said. “I thought _way_ better of you, Cas.”

“I don’t care what you think of me.”

“What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Dean said with a twisted laugh, echoing his words from the first time around. “You don’t have to follow orders when you don’t even know if they’re really from God or just the upper level dicks.”

Castiel actually looked pissed at that. “Do not question God,” he snarled. “I have faith that this plan is just. It comes from Heaven, so it must come from God.”

 _Oh, buddy, I wish you knew how wrong you were,_ Dean thought. What would Castiel say if he knew that Dean was actually the one with orders from God?

“What?” was all Sam could say. “I – how can you even be sure?”

“Sure wish I had that confidence,” Dean said. “Must be nice to not have to think for yourself.”

“Tell me something, Dean,” Castiel said. “When your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?”

Dean’s blood pressure shot straight up. How _dare_ he? How fucking _dare_ Castiel say that? 2008 Dean might have just been a little angry, but this Dean was _furious_ after everything he’d been through in the past decade.

“Well, you know what?” Dean snapped. “I was wrong. I was wrong to follow every damn order I was given. But guess what? Our dad was an asshole and I’ve learned better. Maybe you should do the same. Or maybe you’ll stay as a dickbag ball of self-righteousness. But hey.” Dean shrugged. “Your choice to make.”

Was that actual rage on Castiel’s face? Dean couldn’t quite tell. He was used to 2017 Cas, not 2008 Castiel.

“So if you’re gonna smite this whole town, you’ll have to smite us with it, ‘cause we’re not leaving,” he continued, striding over to Uriel and looking the douche angel right in the eye. “See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of Hell. I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. So, you wanna waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that.”

“I will drag you out of here myself,” Uriel snarled.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me and then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch.” Dean smirked. “Sounds to me like you're compensating for something.” Oh, it was worth it to see Uriel’s face contort and know that the guy couldn’t lay a finger on him. “We can do this, Cas. We’ll find the witch and stop the summoning.”

Uriel tried to protest but Castiel silenced him, then stared at Dean for a long moment. Just when Dean was wondering if Castiel was going to say anything, both angels vanished.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, wiping a hand down his face and collapsing back on a bed as the adrenaline drained out of him. “I fucking hate angels.”

Sam didn’t say anything. Dean looked back at him and found that he really didn’t like the mixture of alarm and contemplation on his brother’s face.

“Dean, I’m worried about you,” Sam said after a moment.

“Oh, here we go,” Dean groaned.

“No, I’m serious! You’re not just Hell-scarred. You’re…different. When have you ever said that about Dad?”

Dean let out a long sigh. “Look, after everything I’ve been through lately, I’ve just realised we had a shit upbringing,” he said. “I realised that following orders isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and that our dad was kind of an asshole. Okay? That’s it, I swear.”

Yeah, this was all true enough, but what Dean didn’t mention was that he’d had many more years to finally make peace with John, not to mention his year with Mary. Sam didn’t look like he fully believed Dean, but he thankfully dropped the subject.

“I thought angels would’ve been…different,” Sam said. “Less…like that. Just feels like a let-down, you know? You put your faith in something and it stabs you in the back.”

Dean snorted darkly. Sam didn’t understand just how on the mark he was. “They’re all dicks, yeah,” Dean said. “But some of ‘em can be better.”

“You seem to think that Cas is different,” Sam said carefully. “I mean, you keep giving him these speeches, but you totally blew off Uriel.”

Shit. Dean needed to work on his emotions. “Well, Cas pulled me outta Hell,” he said. “Yeah, that was orders, but…he’s not all bad. He’s different. I can tell.”

Sam stared at Dean for a long moment. “Can you – can you remember Hell?” he finally said.

“Bits and pieces. Look, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Dean –”

“Let’s hit the hay, Sammy! We got a witch to catch tomorrow!”

* * *

“Goddammit, Sam,” Dean muttered the next night as he and Sam sprinted out of the house that the other witch – Don Harding – had taken Sam to.

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry for getting kidnapped,” Sam said sarcastically. “Next time, I’ll actually put up a fight.”

“You do that. Though I’m not complaining when you make me look like the awesome hero I am.”

It couldn’t have been the same one that Tracy took Dean to, of course, because that would just be too easy. So Dean had had to waste time tracking Sam’s phone to figure out where Don had taken him. They shouldn’t even have interviewed Don in the first place. Maybe if they’d just laid low and then killed him instead of trying to make sure, they wouldn’t have clued him in and he wouldn’t have snatched Sam when Dean went on a beer run. He’d already known who they were, and Dean had recognised his face the instant they laid eyes on each other.

It was surprisingly easy to take him down though, especially when he’d tried to pull that “don’t come close or I’ll slit your brother’s throat” crap. This was one time when Dean could call the bluff, knowing full well that Don was going to kill Sam anyway, and the split second of surprise on Don’s part had been enough for Dean to stab the guy and kill him before he could kill Sam.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam had said while Dean was freeing him. “You killed him! Samhain –”

“Needs a ritual, baby brother,” Dean had replied. “He can’t do the ritual on himself, can he?”

Well, that was one point in Dean’s favour. He may not have changed much from the original 2008 just yet, but he’d stopped Samhain from rising this time around. Maybe this bullshit wasn’t going to be as impossible as he was expecting.

Dean’s good mood was promptly shattered when they got back to the motel and found Castiel in their room, sitting on Dean’s bed. In the original timeline, Castiel had given that speech about not being a hammer and having doubts, but Dean hadn’t been trying to piss the guy off as much as he had this time around. It was a coin toss as to whether Castiel was here to give an emotional speech or just say “fuck orders” and smite the shit out of Dean. Either way, Dean wasn’t sure whether he was closer to getting through to Cas than originally, or further away.

“Uh – hey, Cas,” Sam said awkwardly, closing the door behind himself. Castiel barely spared him a glance.

“I came to talk to Dean,” Castiel said, eyes fixed on Dean.

“Oh. Uh. I’ll just –” Sam fumbled awkwardly for the handle behind him. “I’ll leave you to it.”

A heavy silence descended on the room once Sam was gone. With a loud sigh, Dean crossed over and sank down onto the bed next to Castiel. _Better get this over with._

“If you’re here to thank me, you don’t need to,” he said. “Really, you don’t. I don’t want a thing from you dicks.”

“I didn’t come to thank you,” Castiel said. “Though I do suppose that congratulations for stopping the breaking of the seal is in order. I came to talk to you.”

Dean gave a dark laugh and turned to look Castiel dead in the eye. “And what makes you think I want to hear a word you have to say?” _What makes you think I want to sit here and look at you and keep seeing my best friend who’s not my best friend anymore? Who got killed because of me? And now I’m trying to drag you down again and I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t fuck your life up like that, but I need you back and I can’t just let you be a dick forever like the shit we went through in the first place means nothing._

“I need to explain,” Castiel said. “Our orders –”

“Oh, here we go,” Dean muttered. If he heard that word one more time, he might just snap and strangle the unfairly hot angel next to him.

“Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain. They were to do whatever you told us to do.”

“Your orders were to follow _my_ orders?” Dean said. _Well buddy, you’re fucked because I barely know what I’m doing myself, even second time around._

“It was a test, to see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say.”

“Bet you’re disappointed I didn’t let you go all kamikaze on the town,” Dean said with a twisted smile. He knew that wasn’t how Castiel felt at all, but he needed to hear the words himself. He needed to hear from Castiel’s mouth that the angel still loved and found beauty on Earth, otherwise he could just give up getting his angel back altogether.

“You misunderstand me, Dean,” Castiel said. “I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.”

Dean sagged in relief. His Cas was still in there somewhere; he just needed to keep pushing. “You were?”

“These people, they’re – they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art. And thankfully, you managed to prevent this seal from breaking. That’s one step more that must be done for hell on earth, and that’s quite literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means.”

Dean’s mind flashed back to everything: from Godstiel and the Leviathans, all the way to Amara and even the alternate world where he and Sam had never been born. Oh, he very much understood what hell was like, and not just literal Hell.

“Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Castiel looked down. “I’m not a…hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore.”

The first time around, Dean hadn’t truly understood the magnitude of Castiel’s confession. He hadn’t understood just how dangerous it was for Castiel to say this, and how radical it even was for him to feel this way. But after everything he and Cas had gone through together in the other timeline, Dean finally, _finally_ understood what it had cost Castiel to admit his doubts and fears.

“I get it,” Dean said. “I really do. I get being conflicted. But…just blindly following orders leads to trouble, believe me. Can I tell you something too?”

Castiel inclined his head, piercing blue eyes fixed on Dean. Dean tried not to shiver under the angel’s intense stare.

“I’ve learned…parents aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. It’s just me and Sammy, Cas. Been that way since I was four. I’ve learned that following orders isn’t always right. So if you think that you’re doin’ the wrong thing by being Heaven’s bitch, just tell ‘em to go fuck themselves, man. ‘Cause I know you can be _awesome_. You’re not like all the other dicks.”

To Dean’s chagrin, Castiel looked outraged. Before Dean could say anything else, there was a fluttering of wings and Castiel was gone, leaving Dean feeling like a stone was settling in his stomach.

“I miss you, Cas,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor. Unable to stop the tears from spilling, he sniffed and furiously swiped his sleeve across his face. “I miss _my_ Cas.”

As expected, there was no reply. In that moment, Dean couldn’t remember ever feeling more alone than he felt now, surrounded by family that wasn’t actually his family at all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

_The rift flared orange and Cas emerged, angel blade hefted and ready to fight._

_“Cas!” Dean shouted. “Get outta the way!”_

_Cas ignored him, like Dean hadn’t said anything._

_“Cas!”_

_The rift flared again and an angel blade protruded through Cas’ chest._

_“NO!” Dean yelled as Cas’ eyes and mouth began to glow blinding white. The angel’s corpse crumpled to the ground, wings scorched into the grass. Lucifer chuckled, then snickered, then erupted into full-blown laughter until that sound was filling Dean’s ears, drowning out everything else –_

_Cas’ eyes flew open…but they weren’t blue. They were pitch black, just like demon eyes. Black lines started to creep up Cas’ neck and face, covering him in a patchwork of dark veins just like when he’d been possessed by the Leviathans._

_“Cas?” Dean said, because that was all he could seem to say. “Cas!”_

_“You think you can save us?” Sam said. Dean whirled to see Sam also covered in dark veins, like when Amara’s darkness had poisoned him. “You failed once, Dean. What makes you think you can fix things?”_

_“You can’t,” Cas hissed, climbing to his feet. But he wasn’t moving gracefully like he always did. He moved like a puppet whose strings were in danger of breaking. “Who are you even kidding? You’ll fail, just like you always do. Just like you did with me!”_

_“And I don’t even exist anymore,” Sam said. When he blinked, his eyes turned demon black, just like Cas’. “What makes you think you can save me now?”_

_Lucifer’s laughter grew louder and Sam and Cas joined in, until all Dean could hear was the hysterical laughter of the three people before him –_

Dean shot up in bed, gasping, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Oh my god,” he breathed, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god.”

Thankfully, Sam wasn’t in the room – probably out on a breakfast run or something. That gave Dean the luxury of collapsing back in bed, panting against his pillows as his nightmare flashed before his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, praying like he’d been doing for the past week. “Cas, please. I – I gotta know you’re alright. Just – gimme a sign?”

He got nothing, just like he’d been getting for the past week. In fact, the universe decided to gift him with something he really didn’t want at the moment: the room door rattling as Sam pushed it open, a bag of food in his arms. Great. Now Sam was just going to get even more suspicious when Dean had to fumble for an excuse for _this_ situation.

“Dean?” Sam dropped the food on the table and rushed over to Dean’s bed. “What happened, man?”

“N’thing,” Dean said, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “Just a nightmare.” When he opened his eyes, one look at Sam told him that Sam wasn’t buying it.

“Dean, there’s something wrong,” Sam said. “You’ve been moping around like someone’s died, you’ve been weird since coming back from Hell…I mean, you haven’t even been drinking like I thought you’d be!”

“Sam, I’m fine,” Dean said, a note of steel in his voice. He swung out of bed, mourning the loss of his safe bunker bedroom and consequently the luxury of actually being able to wear pyjamas instead of sleeping in his jeans. Dammit, he missed his dead guy robe.

“No, you’re not.” Sam crossed his arms. “Look, Dean, I’ve been pretty patient with you.”

“Sam.”

“I get that you’re probably struggling with what you went through in Hell.” Great, Doctor Sam was out to play.

“Sam, seriously.”

“But you need to talk to someone about it! And I’m here to listen. I’ll try to understand –”

“No, Sam, you can’t!” Dean finally snapped. “You can’t understand! You – you don’t get – I miss my old life! It was shit and I hated it most of the time, but I miss it!”

“Your old life?” a perplexed Sam said. “Dean, I know that your life before you went to Hell was bad, but it wasn’t _that_ bad, right? I mean, we didn’t have all this Apocalypse and angel stuff to deal with.”

Dean gave a near-hysterical laugh. “Sammy, you really don’t get it. I just – I gotta get out of here.”

“Where are you going?” Sam called. Dean paused just before he closed the door.

“Just need to go for a drive, clear my head. Seriously, Sam, I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t until Dean was in the Impala that he allowed himself to thump his head against the steering wheel and let out a loud shout.

“Why?” he yelled. “Why the fuck send me back if I’m gonna feel even worse here than over there? You think you’re helping by giving me this Sam and Cas? They’re not _my_ Sam and Cas!”

Though a sliver of guilt did worm its way into Dean’s stomach, what he’d just said was the truth. He loved this Sam – he really did – and the chance to go back and fix things was just…unreal. But this wasn’t _his_ Sam and Cas. This Sam and Cas were strangers. And what if Dean couldn’t fix anything? What if he was doomed to watch things play out as they did before, only without the support of his Sam and Cas?

Dean took a deep breath and sat up straight in his seat. Right. It was time to stop moping and wallowing in his own self-pity. He was going to take action, future knowledge be damned. What the hell good was his future knowledge if he was trying to keep things as much the same as he could so that that knowledge would be useful? Dean knew just who he had to see.

* * *

“Well, well, well,” drawled the young, dark-haired man who resembled Cas way more than Dean would’ve liked. “Didn’t think I’d see you back at one of these, Winchester.”

“Cut the crap,” Dean growled. The man gave a mocking bow and blinked, allowing his blood red eyes to flash.

“As you wish. What can I do for you? Another ticket straight back down to Hell? Why, I didn’t think you were the type.” The demon paused and pretended to think. “Then again, considering the rumours I’ve heard…”

In that moment, Dean would’ve happily traded his soul for Ruby’s knife. “I wanna speak to your boss,” he said.

“Lilith?” The demon’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, she’s not taking appointments right now. But if you just leave your message after the –”

“Not her,” Dean interrupted. “Crowley. I wanna talk to Crowley.”

Surprise flickered across the demon’s face. “What d’you want to talk to him for?”

“None of your business. You gonna go get him? Or do I need to leave you here to think about it?”

“Sure thing,” the demon said with the fakest smile Dean had ever seen. Cautiously, Dean scratched a line out of the Devil’s Trap he’d painted, and the demon vanished in the blink of an eye. It was more than likely that he’d just fuck off and not tell Crowley but hey, it was worth a shot, considering what Dean stood to lose.

The longest half-hour of Dean’s life ticked by. Just as he was getting ready to throw in the towel and bail –

“Well, well,” said a low, raspy voice. Goddamn, Dean never thought he’d be _happy_ to hear Crowley again, but he supposed that sacrificing oneself to stop Lucifer tended to change perceptions of that someone.

“Hello, Crowley.” Dean forced his voice to remain neutral as he turned around. And there was Crowley in the flesh, dressed in his typical dark suit but with his face clean-shaven instead of the scraggly facial hair Dean had grown accustomed to.

“I must admit, I’m surprised that Dean Winchester wanted to speak to me personally.” Crowley’s face gave nothing away, but Dean knew that the demon would be scanning him for every little piece of information he could get his oily hands on. “Especially after your…ah, little vacation.”

Dean rolled his eyes hard. “Cut the crap, Crowley. You can find something I want.”

“Oh, can I?” A small smile spread across Crowley’s face. “And what might that be, darling?”

“The Colt.”

Crowley stared at Dean for a moment. “Why are you coming to me for that thing?”

“Because you’re Crowley,” Dean said. Crowley already had the Colt, but Dean couldn’t let on that he knew because Crowley was much, much harder to fool than Sam or Castiel. “If anyone can find it, it’s you.”

“And what’s in it for me, hmm? You’re asking me to stick my neck out and risk my job and my life here, poppet.”

“Oh, I heard through the grapevine that you don’t want Lucifer to get outta Hell,” Dean said. He had to hold back the vindictive smirk that threatened to escape when something in Crowley’s eyes flickered at that piece of information.

“Which grapevine would that be? I wouldn’t want you working with inaccurate information.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said. “Look, I ain’t guaranteeing that I can stop him from rising. I don’t wanna waste your time with promises I might not be able to keep. But we both know that the ‘first demon’ has to be killed for the final seal to break, and that could be Lilith or Alastair.”

“My, you _have_ heard things.” Crowley’s dark eyes fixed on Dean unwaveringly.

“Yeah, you tend to hear things that deep in Hell,” Dean said dryly. “Look, with that gun, I can try and take them out before the final seal breaks.”

“And what’s in it for me if I do help you?” Crowley said. “You’re assuming I don’t want Lucifer to rise, but why should I risk my delicious meat on the _chance_ that you can _maybe_ kill them? Who do you think Lilith’s going to blame if you fail? She’ll know you had help.”

“Well, you’re not gettin’ my soul,” Dean said. “I ain’t putting that on the table again. But I’ll help you become the King of Hell. No Lilith, no Alastair, no Lucifer…no one to stand in your way. I know you’re after the throne.”

Crowley continued to examine Dean. It wasn’t like Dean necessarily wanted Crowley in power, but better the devil he knew and could reason with. And with his future knowledge of Crowley, he could stay one step ahead of the slippery demon.

“And I suppose you heard that through the grapevine too?” Crowley deadpanned.

“Something like that.”

“You do argue your point well.” Crowley tilted his head. “I’ll think about your offer.”

Hey, that was more than Dean had been expecting, so he’d take it. “Thank you.”

Crowley just snorted and vanished, leaving behind the faint smell of sulfur. Feeling like he’d actually accomplished something, Dean snatched up his can of spray paint and headed back to Baby, hoping that Sam wouldn’t be too pissed about Dean just walking out on him. Maybe he’d tell Sam about this Colt thing later…when he wasn’t being psychoanalysed by Doctor Sam.

But the universe didn’t seem to have finished messing with Dean just yet. About five minutes into the trip back, Baby’s engine began to splutter.

“What?” Dean groaned as the Impala slowed down. “Oh, come on! I checked Baby just last night!”

He pulled over on the side of the road and got out to check under Baby’s hood. Maybe that crossroads demon had messed with it. He wouldn’t put it past a son of a bitch like a demon. But before he could even pop the hood, pain exploded across the back of his head and black immediately rushed in to fill his vision as he dropped to the ground.

* * *

Really, Dean should just start charging to be woken up tied to something. Every damn monster he came across seemed to have a fetish for tying Dean Winchester up, and this monster was no different. Maybe he could make a living off this instead of credit card fraud.

“Seriously?” he groaned, tugging at the ropes tying him tightly to an examination table by his wrists, ankles, and throat. “Man, they could at least take me to dinner before getting to the kinky stuff.”

“Oh, we all know how easy you are, Dean,” said a voice that Dean never wanted to hear again in his life. He groaned loudly.

“Hi, Ruby,” he drawled. “Come to enjoy the show?”

Ruby crossed into his field of view, the heels of her boots clacking against the concrete floor of the building they were in. She was still wearing the dark-haired woman she’d had last time and her face was twisted in utter fury.

“I’ll enjoy this a lot,” she snarled. “You ruined everything, Dean!”

“Glad to be of service,” Dean said with a mocking smirk. Ruby growled and shoved her hands in her pockets. “What’s the matter, don’t wanna hit a poor little human?”

“I’m not allowed to touch you,” Ruby said. “Not yet. But I will be.”

“Sweetheart, I never trust a demon,” Dean said. He prayed furiously that Ruby didn’t know that he was just meeting up with Crowley because otherwise, the game was up. And he was oddly fond of Crowley after everything in the other timeline, as infuriating as the slimy demon was. “So you should’ve known I’d put my foot in it.”

“Guess we’ll have to do something about that foot of yours, then.” Ruby went to open the door and immediately, any humour and bravery that Dean might have had abandoned him on the spot.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” came the nasally voice of Alastair that had haunted Dean’s nightmares for so long after Hell. Oh, shit. If there was one being that could still wriggle their way under Dean’s skin – literally, in this case – after everything he’d been through, it was Hell’s grand torturer himself. Alastair was wearing the paediatrician vessel, not that it really mattered since he was still going to fuck Dean’s shit up no matter what meat suit he had.

“Alastair,” he managed to force out, though his voice quivered slightly. From the wide grin that spread across Alastair’s face, this hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You do remember me!” Alastair ran a finger down Dean’s cheek almost lovingly. Dean shuddered and tried to lean away, swallowing down the bile threatening to rise in his throat, but the ropes around his neck kept his head firmly in place. “Do you remember the fun we had down there, Dean?”

“What the fuck, Ruby?” Dean growled. He tried to ignore Alastair, as though that would be enough to quell the panic rising in him, but Alastair’s mere presence refused to be ignored and Dean’s heart continued to race. Alastair was probably one of the only things who could still instil such terror in Dean, even a decade later, because he’d flayed Dean’s soul bare and seen him at his utter lowest. He’d violated Dean in a way that literally no one else had; reached a part of Dean that hadn’t been reached by anyone else and unlocked a dark, sadistic nature that had pervaded Dean’s life ever since. Would Dean have been less susceptible to things like Purgatory and the Mark of Cain if Alastair hadn’t awakened that dark side of him?

“I was supposed to be the best of these sons of bitches!” Ruby snapped.

“Tsk, tsk,” Alastair said. “Language, dearie.”

Ruby took a deep breath. “Only Lilith knew. I was handpicked by her! And it was working until you blundered your way in and ruined it all! So now? Now all of Hell hates me and I don’t even have the pay-off!”

“I made a little deal with poor Ruby here, once she explained her case,” Alastair said. “Of course, ‘explain’ is a rather loose word that implies a lack of involvement of pain.”

Ruby’s left eye twitched. The thought of her being tortured by Alastair brought Dean at least some vindictive satisfaction.

“I bring you Dean, I’m welcomed back to Hell, so I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder with no pay-off,” Ruby said. “You get your plaything back and we screw over the angels.”

“Almost, pet,” Alastair tutted. “There’s just one more thing I need you to do.”

Ruby gave a short nod and then disappeared. Alastair turned back to Dean, his smile widening.

“I’ll leave you to accustom yourself to your new accommodations, hmm?” he said. Dean wasn’t fooled for a second; if there was one thing he’d learned from Alastair, it was that the anticipation of torture was often far, far more painful than the torture itself. And it was working; even though it had been a decade, Dean’s heart was ready to beat clean out of his chest. He pasted a smile on his face that fooled no one.

“Take your time,” he said. Still grinning, Alastair leaned in close.

“Oh, I intend to.”

The minute Alastair closed the door behind him, Dean sagged in his bonds and let out a tiny, almost silent sound. Now he had a whole new problem to deal with. Oh, not just the torture, but rather the possibility of spilling everything he knew about the future. For the first time in years, the thought of Hell and torture was actively invoking panic in Dean. He’d broken the first time around; how the hell was he supposed to hold out when he knew how horrific it could get?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

How long had it been? Dean had lost track of the time he’d spent with Alastair’s knife. But then, that was fairly reasonable when one considered that being tortured non-stop tended to mess with their ability to keep track of time.

This time around, there was a lot more screaming and crying and loudness on Dean’s part, something that Alastair seemed to delight in if his comments were any indication. But the demon had no idea. It wasn’t that Dean was weaker to the pain – after all, he _did_ have an extra ten years of torture and bullshit under his belt from the other timeline – but rather, every scrap of willpower he had was being directed to not giving up any information about that other timeline. The consequences of Alastair – and, by extension, Hell – getting his clutches on knowledge of the future was too damn catastrophic to even think about. But due to this, Dean couldn’t direct his willpower to not crying out in pain.

“Such a pity that I can’t take you back to Hell with me,” Alastair lamented. Dean’s normal reaction of fear to those words was absent, largely because Alastair was also in the process of slowly folding back the flaps of a large cut he’d made on Dean’s abdomen to get to the squishy stuff inside. “The warding on this place is good for keeping your pathetically fragile meat sack from dying, but it’s not the same, you know? There’s just something so…delightful about slicing into a soul as opposed to a wet sack of meat.”

Dean just gurgled in response, barely able to even move his body in his bonds. Alastair had already torn open his arms to toy with the muscles, tendons, and bones inside, and it had been absolute agony…but Dean hadn’t caved in. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t let everyone else down, even if they had no clue of the knowledge he was desperately keeping to himself.

His thoughts were cut off by Alastair plunging a hand into his abdomen and tearing out one of his organs, ripping the glistening thing free from the blood vessels holding it in place. Dean threw his head back and shrieked, his throat stabbing in protest after all the screaming he’d been doing

“Just tell me what I want to know, Dean,” Alastair said, his tone mockingly soothing. “Then this can all be over. Once I reach your lungs, I don’t think you’ll be doing much talking at all.”

Alastair hadn’t outright said what would happen if he removed Dean’s heart and lungs, but Dean was fairly certain that it would be hell on earth; he wouldn’t be able to breathe, but he wouldn’t be able to die either. Would he black out? Or would he be forced to live through every horrific second of it?

“Screw…you…” Dean said hoarsely. Alastair tutted.

“Now, that’s not very polite, is it?” He reached into Dean’s abdomen and squeezed, and Dean choked out a weak scream as white-hot pain shot through his whole body again. “I thought I’d taught you better manners than that. Do you need a refresher course?”

“Get…bent…”

“Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean.” Alastair leaned in, his sulfurous breath making Dean gag. “Why won’t you just make things easier on yourself? I’m certainly not complaining, but it would just be so much simpler for you to tell me what I want to know.”

Dean swallowed. “When do I…ever…make things…easier?”

“Very true.” Alastair tapped Dean’s chest with his knife. “But I’ll get what I want out of you one way or another. I have my ways to heal you up all nice and neat, so I can have even more fun with you. Now, let’s try this again. Word has reached me that you overheard Ruby’s plan deep in Hell. But even _I_ didn’t hear of this plan, as I’m sure you know. Only Lilith and Ruby were aware.”

“Tragic,” Dean rasped, struggling to keep breathing through the agony radiating from his abdomen and arms. Alastair just smiled.

“So, we have two possibilities here,” he said, his knife rhythmically tapping against Dean’s chest. “One: there were some naughty demons who had information they shouldn’t have had. Or two: naughty Dean Winchester has information he shouldn’t have. Personally? I’m very particular to the latter option. After all, if it was the first option, you wouldn’t be fighting so hard to keep this information to yourself. I know you would have gladly given up those demons to save yourself a bit of extra pain, just like the weak little bitch you are.”

Dean couldn’t hold back the flinch that escaped him when Alastair reached out and cupped his bloody cheek.

“Do share with the class, Deanie.” Alastair stroked Dean’s face with his thumb. Dean shuddered violently, then whimpered when the movement sent sharp pain through his body. “Your persistence is admirable. What information is so valuable that you’re so desperate to keep me from knowing?”

Dean looked Alastair straight in the eye and was nearly sick at the empty blankness he saw there. Sure, he’d faced loads of bad guys post-Apocalypse, but most of them had had their own reasons for acting the way they did and showed _emotions_. Even the literal personification of darkness and destruction had had understandable reasons for trying to snuff out the universe. There was none of that behind Alastair’s eyes. There was just…nothing. He was still one of the most terrifying things Dean had ever faced.

“Go…to…Hell…” Dean drew in a rattling breath. Alastair sighed.

“I’d really, really love to, Dean. We had such good times down there, didn’t we? But until your brother’s back on track, I’ve only got your meat to work with. Who knows when we might need you?” After caressing Dean’s cheek once more, Alastair returned to Dean’s gaping abdomen. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get some answers out of you, hmm?”

Dean steeled himself in anticipation. But before Alastair could tear out another organ, the sound of scuffling reached his ears and Alastair turned around.

“Ah, that should be Ruby,” he said. “Looks like that whore is good for something after all.”

The door slammed open and Ruby staggered into the room, hauling a furiously struggling redhead. For a heart-stopping moment, Dean thought that it was Rowena and wondered why the hell Alastair needed Rowena and how he even knew she existed, but then he realised that the woman’s hair didn’t have the distinct curls that Rowena’s hair had. Once he got a glimpse of the redhead’s face, his stomach dropped (assuming it was even still in his abdomen).

“What do you – you _things_ want with me?” Anna Milton demanded, still struggling to free herself from Ruby’s grip.

“My god, you don’t shut up, do you?” Ruby sighed.

“Demons…sweetheart,” Dean said to Anna. Ruby regarded him with raised eyebrows.

“Comfortable there, Dean?” she said.

“Dean? Dean Winchester?” Anna stopped struggling. “I’ve heard about you – and I was just with Sam, and Ruby was telling us about this powerful demon coming for us –”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Alastair said. “I’m not coming for you. Ruby brought you to me.”

Anna’s eyes bulged. “I’m going to be sick,” she said faintly. “I thought Ruby was ugly, but you?”

“No need to flatter me.” Alastair moved away from Dean to Anna and Ruby, where he tucked a lock of dark red hair behind Anna’s ear. “Take a good look at Dean, sweetheart. Think of it as a taste of what I’ll be doing to you to extract what I need from your pretty little head. And speaking of taste…”

Dean let out a strangled cry when Alastair dipped a finger into his abdomen and swirled to gather some blood. Anna looked like she wanted to vomit at the sight of Alastair popping his finger into his mouth and licking the blood off.

“Dean Winchester always was my favourite delicacy,” Alastair said. “You know, I was almost disappointed when you broke, Deanie. Oh, I’ve never been prouder than when you took up the blade yourself, but I did miss the taste of you.”

It was Dean’s turn to try not to vomit, though he was having a lot less luck than Anna, considering that he was butchered like a slab of raw meat. Again, did he even have his stomach anymore? Could he even vomit?

“It’s actually kind of gratifying to see you in this much pain.” Ruby looked Dean straight in the eye. “You know how many hoops I had to jump through to even get Sam to agree to be reluctant allies? I had to spin so much ‘poor, defenceless girl being hunted by demons’ and ‘you need to help her’ crap to get him to see that he needed my help to find Anna.”

“You killed him!” Anna tried to hit Ruby in the face, but Ruby just dodged and grabbed her wrist. Dean could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped. “You killed Sam!”

“Oh, relax. I just gave him a love tap. He can’t die yet.” Ruby turned to Alastair. “Am I good now?”

Alastair studied her. Though Ruby’s face was a mask of stone, Dean could see the hint of fear behind her eyes. You just didn’t talk to Alastair like that unless you were Lilith and had the power to back yourself up – and even then, there was nothing stopping Alastair from getting his revenge at some point.

“I think you need to be taught some manners first,” Alastair said slowly. “You seem to have…forgotten your place.”

Ruby paled but her mask didn’t falter.

“Take her to the other room,” Alastair said, nodding at Anna. “I’ll attend to her in a moment. Dean and I will just finish our session, won’t we?”

Dean refused to meet Alastair’s eyes, afraid that what he’d find there would just weaken his already stretched resolve. Instead, he looked at a terrified Anna, as though he could desperately channel his strength through her and help her stay strong against Alastair. Sure, she’d tried to erase him and Sam from existence, but Dean hadn’t actually realised just how horrific Heaven’s brainwashing was on someone until Naomi had fucked with Cas’ mind and made him nearly kill Dean. So yeah, Dean didn’t hold any ill will towards Anna; hell, he wished she’d gotten a better run, and maybe that run could be this timeline. That is, if Dean could ever get out of here.

“Come on, Red.” Ruby started to haul Anna out of the room. Whether this was just the trigger or Anna had seen something in Dean’s gaze, Dean wasn’t sure; but either way, Anna screamed and struggled.

“NO!”

Ruby went flying when Anna’s hand made contact with her. The shock wave reverberated through the room, sending Alastair crashing into the wall and stretching Dean’s bonds to the point where he could tug them loose, though with a lot of burning pain and groaning.

“Run!” he rasped to Anna, who was frozen to the spot with wide eyes. Before Ruby could recover from Anna’s involuntary attack, Dean tackled her to try and get his hands on her knife. But Alastair’s work on Dean’s arms was very thorough, and Dean’s hands refused to cooperate and grab the knife, let alone drive it into Ruby’s body. Hell, the only reason the blinding pain from his arms and abdomen wasn’t leaving him down for the count was the adrenaline surging through his system at the thought of escape; Chuck knows he wouldn’t have been able to shove down such horrific pain otherwise.

“Cas,” Dean wheezed in sheer desperation, on autopilot by now and calling the one guy who could possibly help him. “Cas, please –”

“I’m gonna kill you!” Ruby slammed Dean into the ground, dark eyes glinting wildly, and Dean’s vision began to swim once again. “After all the shit you’ve caused me –”

Ruby didn’t even get to finish her sentence. In a split second, she was convulsing and choking as her body lit up bright orange, and when she collapsed on the ground next to Dean, he caught sight of the hilt of her knife sticking out of the back of her head.

“Oh my god,” Anna whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. “I killed her. Oh my god.”

“Run now, freak out later.” Dean held out a hand and Anna gingerly pulled him to his feet, with him cursing and swearing at the agony that lanced through his arm and body and her doing everything she could to avoid touching the butchered parts of Dean’s arm. Black spots began to dance before his eyes. “Get the knife!”

Anna obeyed, though not without cringing and groaning as she removed the knife from Ruby’s head with a sickening _squelch_. Tightening her grip on the blade, she adjusted Dean’s bloody arm around her shoulders and turned to the door, while Dean groaned and clutched at his abdomen with his other hand to try and keep the rest of his organs inside. How the hell was he still conscious and functioning? Was it part of Alastair’s spell?

“Leaving so soon?” Alastair stepped in front of the door to block their passage, blood trickling down his forehead. Dean really did not like the deadly gleam in the demon’s eyes, or the dangerous grin on his face. “I thought we had something special, Dean.”

“I’m gonna die,” Anna was whimpering under her breath. “Oh my god.”

Dean looked Alastair straight in the eye, suppressing his shudder at what he saw in the dark depths. “Go fuck yourself,” he growled with every bit of force he could muster. Alastair just tsked and shook his head.

“Such bad manners,” he said. “Why don’t you just be a good boy and make things easier on yourself, hmm? After all, the only reason you’re still alive is because of my warding, especially since you seem to be missing your liver and stomach. If you leave this building?” Alastair shook his head. “Well, you might not make it very far. And as much as I’d love to have you rejoin me in Hell, it’s not quite the right time just yet.”

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Dean was tempted to do what Alastair said and get back on the table. He couldn’t leave this place without dying and continuing to fight would only ensure that Alastair made things much, much more painful for him. But his pride wouldn’t let him do that. He couldn’t just bend over and let Alastair do whatever he wanted.

“No?” Alastair rolled up his dress shirt sleeves, stained deep scarlet with Dean’s blood. “I can’t say that I’m complaining. And once I’m done with you, I’ll teach young Anna here what happens when she steps out of line, just like I taught you.”

Dean tried to push Anna behind him as Alastair advanced on them, as though this would be enough to protect her, but it was physically impossible when she was the one supporting him so that he didn’t go toppling over like a limp sack of flesh. Just when he was starting to think that this was it, he was going to be stuck here with Alastair forever, the most amazing sound in the world reached his ears: wing rustling.

“Cas,” he croaked, sagging against Anna at the sight of Castiel in front of them, angel blade out and hefted.

“An angel!” Alastair looked just delighted. “I’ve always wanted one of you feathered pricks to play with.”

He lunged at Castiel, who smoothly dodged and tried to stab Alastair in the back. But Alastair was quicker, and he and Castiel were engaged in a desperate struggle for the angel blade in the span of seconds.

“Anna?” Dean slurred. “Anna, we gotta go.”

Anna remained rooted to the spot, hyperventilating as she took in the sight of Castiel and Alastair brawling for control of the deadly weapon. Oh, great. She was probably reaching her breaking limit. Dean kept forgetting that this was currently Anna the civilian, not Anna the fallen angel.

“Anna!”

Snarling, Castiel kicked Alastair in the stomach and sent the demon staggering back just enough to brush against Anna. Anna let out a shrill scream that sent Alastair hurtling away from her and Dean to smash into the table that Dean had been bound to, but this also resulted in her accidentally letting go of Dean. He collapsed to the ground, groaning and curling into a ball to stop his innards from spilling out. The world wouldn’t stop spinning – everything around him was a rush of sound – what was going on?

Something grabbed his left arm, sending pure, hot pain lancing from the mutilated mess. Dean bellowed and attempted to fight off whoever was holding him – he couldn’t go back on that table, he just couldn’t, he wouldn’t last another round – but his captor’s grip was unrelenting. There was a bright flash of white light…and then Dean was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Everything was so warm. Why was he so comfortable? Dean didn’t want to ever open his eyes if it meant giving up this snuggly comfort. He never wanted to go back to Alastair’s table. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, he wouldn’t end up there. Something brushed against his arm and he let out a small, weak groan of protest.

“Dean? Dean!”

That was Sam. Why was Sam here? Had Alastair nabbed him too? Screw this comfort; if Sam was in danger, Dean needed to suck it up and do his job. Reluctantly, Dean slowly forced his eyes open, and he was greeted with the sight of Sam’s worried face hovering over him.

“Dean!”

The next moment, Dean was being smothered in the tightest hug he’d had in probably a long while. Choking, all he could do was try and hug Sam back.

“Wait…” He pushed Sam away and frantically felt up his stomach and arms. How was he still alive? Shouldn’t he have died? Alastair had taken his _liver_ and ripped him open! “How –”

Over Sam’s shoulder, Dean caught sight of Castiel standing near the door of the motel room, eyes fixed unwaveringly on him.

“I healed you before transporting you back here,” Castiel said. “It was a risk to do so when Alastair was so powerful and about to overpower me, but you wouldn’t have survived long enough for me to heal you if I saved you first.”

Dean flopped back against his pillows, covering his face with his hands. He was free. Alastair wasn’t going to torture him anymore…even though the risk was still there until he was iced for good. Wait –

“Anna!” Dean struggled to sit back up. “She was there – Alastair –”

“I’m here,” said a quiet voice. Dean looked over at the next bed, where Anna was sitting on the edge with her red hair tumbling messily around her chalky face. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. Dean shot her a small grin.

“Thank god you’re alright. Wouldn’t be much of a hunter if I lost the girl.”

“Dean, who’s Alastair?” Sam said as Anna rolled her eyes. “I mean, you were acting weird and then you disappeared for three days and Ruby told me you were kidnapped – and then Cas comes crashing in here with you and the girl Ruby snatched from me, and you mention this guy called Alastair –”

Dean sighed. “Grand torturer downstairs. We got history.”

“History? What does that –”

“Ruby’s dead, right?” Dean said quickly to Anna. Anything to avoid talking about the one guy who still struck fear deep inside Dean, right.

“Yeah,” Anna said. “I – oh god, I killed someone!”

“You just killed a demon,” Sam said reassuringly, crossing over to her bed to rest a comforting hand on her arm. “Ruby – I made her take a vessel without a soul, back when – when we were working together. So you didn’t kill an innocent person.”

“How the hell did she even get the drop on you?” Dean said, crossing his arms. “I thought you told her to fuck off.”

“I did.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “And I was gonna do that this time, but she mentioned that there was this super-powerful demon who’d kidnapped you and was coming after this girl called Anna. I figured I’d team up with her to save you and Anna, then –”

“Tell her to shove off?” Dean said. “Nice plan, except for the part where she’s the one who grabbed me in the first place.” He paused. “Baby! That bitch messed with my car!”

“Baby’s fine, Dean,” Sam said. “I found her and drove her back.” There was a moment of silence, then he turned to Anna. “I – when I went to the mental hospital, they showed me some of your drawings. The Rising of the Witnesses…Samhain…”

“Wait, you saw that stuff?” Dean said. Sure, he knew that Anna had an idea of what was going on with the Apocalypse due to being a fallen angel, but the finer details had escaped him after a decade.

“That stuff was real?” Anna covered her mouth. “I thought I really was going mad. And then Sam showed up and – the angels talk about him all the time. You too, Dean. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us. And some of them don’t like you at all.”

“Lucky me,” Dean smirked. Being hated by celestial beings shouldn’t have been a goal to aspire for but hey, he took pride in pissing off powerful things wherever he went.

“So you talk to angels?” Sam said.

“Oh, no.” Anna shook her head. “No, no way. Um, they probably don’t even know I exist. I just kind of…overhear them. They talk and sometimes I just…hear them in my head.”

“Kind of a shitty thing to get locked up in the nuthouse for,” Dean said. “Then again, I shoulda been there long ago.”

“Dean,” Sam chastised. “Anna, when did the voices start? Do you remember?”

Anna nodded. “I can tell you exactly: September 18. First words I heard, clear as a bell: ‘Dean Winchester is saved’. I wish I knew why all this is happening, especially now!”

“Because Heaven hasn’t been active on Earth until now.”

Sam, Dean, and Anna jumped when Castiel spoke. Hell, Dean had forgotten that the dorky angel was even still in the room, though he didn’t like the way Castiel’s eyes were fixed on Anna.

“When we left Heaven, your abilities were activated,” Castiel continued. “In fact, I have orders to bring you back to Heaven. That’s why I’m still here.”

“What?” Anna’s eyes bulged. “Why? I – I promise I won’t tell the demons anything! I just want to go back home!”

“That’s not possible,” Castiel said. “It’s not a matter of whether you would cooperate with demons or not, though that is a concern of ours. It’s because you’re a fallen angel.”

The room fell into deafening silence.

“I’m _what_?” Anna squawked.

“She’s _what_?” Sam spluttered.

“Well, shit,” Dean said, mostly so he didn’t feel left out. “Can’t you just – I dunno, pretend you never found her?”

Castiel just stared at Dean. “She is a fallen angel, Dean,” he said. “An abomination. I have to take her.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation about following dick orders last time,” Dean said. He threw back the covers so that he could stand in front of Anna, vividly remembering how fucked-up Anna had been after Heaven got their hands on her last time. “Come on, Cas. You really think Heaven’s gonna give her the spa treatment?”

“I have to do this. She has to die.”

Dean looked Castiel right in the eye. “You know this isn’t right, Cas. I know you know. You’re just choosing the coward’s way out ‘cause you’re too scared to question orders. Was everything you told me last time just a sack of shit?”

Castiel’s face settled into a blank mask. “Move out of the way, Dean, or I’ll make you.”

“You can’t touch me.” Dean crossed his arms. “You dragged me outta Hell, remember? Don’t think they’d take kindly to you sending me back down.”

“I’m not allowed to harm you. There are ways to incapacitate without harming.”

Castiel started to approach Anna, so Sam also positioned himself in front of her with Dean. How the hell were they supposed to hold Castiel off? He was the one with the angel blade, and Dean really didn’t want to hurt him. He might be a dick but…Dean’s Cas was in there somewhere. _Very_ deep down. And it was too late to draw an angel-banishing symbol, not to mention that he’d have to think of an excuse as to how he knew it –

A sudden flash sparked behind Dean, and Castiel vanished with a cry and an explosion of light. When Sam and Dean whirled around, they found Anna kneeling on the bed with a bloody symbol drawn on the bedspread and Ruby’s knife next to her, sticky from slicing her skin open.

“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed. “Anna, did – did you kill him?”

“No!” Anna cradled her bloody hand and arm. “No. I sent him away…far away.”

“But – how?”

“That just popped in my head. I don’t know how I did it. I just…did it.”

“Must be because of that fallen angel crap that Cas mentioned,” Dean said. “If you’re really one of them without juice, you gotta know some stuff you didn’t even know you knew.”

“You’re not even surprised,” Sam said, squinting at Dean. “Did you know?”

Dean met Anna’s eyes. She must have seen something in them, because her face changed minutely, though Dean couldn’t quite decipher it. He turned back to Sam. “Not exactly. But I knew something had to be up with her if Alastair wanted her. He only gets personal when it’s special.”

“I don’t want to be special,” Anna said faintly. Dean snorted.

“Join the club, sweetheart. Look, we gotta get out of here. Cas’ll be back soon and he won’t be happy.”

It only took ten minutes to pack everything up and pile into the Impala, and soon they were speeding their way towards Bobby’s, where his panic room would at least keep demons away from Anna. They could work on the angel part later.

“Why did Alastair even want you?” Sam said. “I know you mentioned he was Hell’s grand torturer and you’ve got history – which I’m not so sure I want to know about –”

“A wise choice,” Dean said. No way would he tell Sam about Alastair and the shit the demon had done to him and made him do.

“But it doesn’t make sense that he’d just pop up now and grab you,” Sam continued. “He’d have to have a reason, right?”

Dean sighed and leaned back against his seat. “Remember when I told you that I overheard someone talking about Ruby’s plan to get you hooked on demon blood?” he said, ignoring Anna’s little squeak in the backseat.

“Yeah…” Sam said slowly.

“Alastair…as far as he knows, only Ruby and Lilith knew about the plan. Even he didn’t know, so it took a lot of… _convincing_ for Ruby to worm her way back into his graces and get him to believe that she wasn’t a traitor. So he reckons that I was bullshitting about overhearing the plan and he wanted to find out how I knew and what else I knew.”

“If it was just between Ruby and Lilith, how _did_ you find out?” Sam said, his brow furrowed. “Ruby mentioned that Lilith sent her to the deepest corners of Hell, which I know now is a pile of crap. But I’ve been thinking that you overheard her. Who else could’ve known about the plan if even Hell’s grand torturer didn’t know?”

“Just some demon,” Dean said quickly. “Must’ve found out from Lilith or Ruby and went running their mouth ‘cause they felt safe that deep in Hell.”

“Dean, I know you don’t want to think about what you went through –”

“Don’t,” Dean said quietly. “You got no idea what I’ve been through. What I’ve seen. Just…please.”

Sam was silent for a moment, before reaching out and resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I get it,” he said. “And when you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen.”

“Do I have to put up with this for the rest of the ride?” Anna piped up. Dean jumped and slapped Sam’s hand away as though it had burned him.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s enough chick flick shit, Samantha,” Dean said after clearing his throat. Sam rolled his eyes hard.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Right back at you, bitch.”

But when Dean met Anna’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, he knew immediately that she wasn’t fooled for a second. He was certain she’d known he was lying earlier about knowing that she was a fallen angel, judging from how her face had changed, so of course she’d know that he was bullshitting now. He gave the smallest shake of his head, so as not to attract Sam’s attention, and received the barest of nods in return. That didn’t reassure him in the slightest, though, because he just knew that Anna was going to corner him later. But at least it bought him a bit more time to figure out what to say.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Iron walls drenched in salt,” Dean said, rapping on the wall of Bobby’s panic room. “Demons can’t even touch the joint.”

“That doesn’t do much about the angels out for my head,” Anna said faintly, slumped in her chair.

“True. Gimme a few.”

Thankfully, raiding Bobby’s stash of ingredients gave him everything he needed to make the super strong hex bags that Ruby had made for them the first time around; though how Dean even remembered the recipe, he had no idea. Maybe Chuck was taking pity on him after that Alastair bullshit.

“Can you hear anything?” he said when he returned to the panic room. Anna didn’t look like she’d moved even a muscle since he’d left her there.

“It’s quiet. Dead silence.”

“Great. That really bodes well for us.” Dean tossed her a hex bag. “That should hide you. Assuming I made it right.”

Anna nodded, her brow furrowed. “You knew I was a fallen angel,” she said suddenly. “I could tell by the look on your face. I thought I was imagining things, because Sam’s your brother and I thought he’d have picked up if you were lying, but he didn’t. And then you gave me that look in the car.”

“Hey, with Sam, I can either bullshit him a hundred percent or he can be the only person I won’t fool,” Dean shrugged, sinking down on the uncomfortable bed. “Just so happens this is one of those good times.”

“So…you were lying? How did you know?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face, wondering how best to lie to Anna when she was already onto him. “I can’t tell you that,” he finally said. “Believe me, I really wanna. I can’t even tell Sam.”

“You didn’t hear any of this in Hell, did you?” Anna said with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope. Like they would’ve said anything around me, even to shit me. They probably knew the angels would be coming for me – the higher-ups, at least.”

“But where else could you have heard it?”

“That’s the part I can’t tell you,” Dean said with a wry smirk. “But trust me, I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure neither side gets their hands on you.”

“I feel safer already,” Anna deadpanned. Dean snorted. Absently, he wondered if, in a totally different time and place and without Cas, he and Anna could’ve been a thing. He seemed to be drawn to human-like angels who didn’t quite fit in with Heaven and ended up rebelling. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Cas was just…Cas. No one could even compare.

Of course, Castiel was causing a whole fucking bucket-load of problems. Dean never claimed to possess the virtue of patience.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he said. “I know we asked Bobby for the best psychic to go rooting around in your head, but…”

Anna gave him a small, weary smile. “I must have fallen for a reason, Dean,” she said. “If I’m in danger by not knowing then maybe I need to remember, what I want be damned.”

“Alright, then,” Dean said. “I mean, for what it’s worth, I kind of get what you’re going through. Not the fallen angel bit, but the ‘rock and hard place’ thing.”

Anna laughed at that.

“Hey, Dean!” Sam called from the depths of the house. Dean pushed himself off the bed with a groan.

“Stay here, alright?” he said. “Don’t lose that hex bag.”

He trekked out of the panic room and into the dining room, where Sam was hunched over his laptop. Sam looked up at him, brow crinkling when he caught sight of the two hex bags Dean was holding.

“How the heck do you even know how to make them?” Sam said. Dean just shrugged and threw one to Sam.

“I’m a barrel of tricks, little brother. So, Pamela’s on her way and Bobby’s in the Dominican. He said we break anything, we buy it.”

“He’s working a job?”

“God, I hope so. Otherwise, he’s at hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.” Dean shuddered at the very thought. It was slightly weird how easily he’d adjusted to having Bobby back in his life, right down to imagining the old man in situations he really shouldn’t be imagined in. Maybe it was just because it was Bobby. He’d easily adjusted to having Bobby back after his and John’s falling-out back when Azazel and Meg were their biggest problems.

“Now that’s seared into my brain,” Sam said with a shudder of his own.

“Alright, what did you find on Anna?” Sure, Dean already knew that her parents were dead, but he couldn’t exactly come out and say it. It probably wasn’t the smartest move to keep leaning on his future knowledge as ‘stuff he’d overheard’, especially since Sam was slowly growing more and more suspicious and Anna was already onto his bullshit.

“Uh, not much. Her parents were, uh, Rich and Amy Milton – a church deacon and a housewife.”

“Were?”

“They’re…um, Ruby and I went to check out their house to see if Anna went there. And…”

“Demons threw a housewarming party?” Dean said. Sam grimaced and nodded. “Well, shit. Poor Anna. What else?”

“Well, turns out this latest psych episode wasn’t her first,” Sam said. “When she was two and a half, she’d get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced he wasn’t her real daddy.”

“Spank me, daddy,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Sam spluttered.

“Nothing. You’re imagining things. Continue, little brother.”

“Uh…Anna didn’t say what that was all about. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad – like, wanted-to-kill-her mad.”

“Kind of heavy for a two-year-old,” Dean remarked. He raised an eyebrow at the ceiling when Sam wasn’t looking, but all he got in return was a headache. _Wow. Thanks, Chuck. Heaven forbid you face the fact that you were kind of a shitty father._

“Well, she saw a kid’s shrink, got better, and grew up normal,” Sam said. “Until now. It makes sense, don’t you think? If she’s a fallen angel, her real dad would be, well…God. And he didn’t really take kindly to fallen angels, from all the lore.”

“So, God’s a deadbeat dad,” Dean quipped. “Who knew?” His head throbbed in response, so he just rolled his eyes.

“It would be nice to be included in conversations about me when it’s my life on the line,” Anna said from behind them. Sam and Dean jumped and whirled to face her guiltily.

“I’m guessing you overheard all that?” Dean said. Anna’s face twitched.

“My parents are dead. Demons. So it’s my fault.”

“What? No!” Sam said immediately. “Anna, this isn’t your fault!”

“Well, it is. I mean, if I hadn’t fallen, the demons wouldn’t be after me. I wouldn’t even have been born!”

“Hey, whoa, you don’t wanna go down that path,” Dean said. “Believe me, I’ve been down there before.” The image of the alternate world from the future flashed in his mind, so he quickly shoved it down before he started seeing Cas’ corpse again. “I’m gonna sound like the biggest fuckin’ hypocrite here, but you can’t go blaming yourself. The demons killed ‘em, not you. Beating yourself up over it’s only gonna hurt you in the long run.”

His grand speech was greeted with silence.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?” Sam said, reaching out to rest the back of his hand against Dean’s forehead. “Only, I don’t remember you actually realising that it’s bad to beat yourself up over things out of your control.”

“Fuck off,” Dean grumbled, swatting Sam’s hand away. Anna’s lips twitched.

“I know,” she said. “I just…don’t _know_. Not yet.”

“I get that. That’ll come with time.”

Before they could comment on Dean’s unusual show of maturity any further, there was a knock on the door. Sam went to answer it, returning with none other than Pamela Barnes.

“Guys, this is Pamela Barnes,” he said. “Bobby swears by her. Says she’s the best psychic he knows.”

“Bobby always was a sweet-talker,” Pamela said, eyeing Dean up. “Mmm-mmm. Dean Winchester. You’re certainly not hard on the eyes.”

“Hey,” Dean said, surprised at how he wasn’t losing his shit at seeing Pamela again. Then again, it _had_ been years for him since she’d died in the other timeline, so maybe anyone who croaked this far back was fair game for him. “How you goin’?”

It was a little weird, to be casually flirting again – especially with someone who’d been dead for years for him – but flirting came to Dean as easy as breathing. Hell, flirting made him feel like, for a moment, things were normal and he was just a guy interested in a girl (or another guy).

“Not bad at all,” Pamela said, her eyes raking over him. Dean got the distinct impression that she wasn’t talking about her state of wellbeing. Her eyes moved to Anna and her gaze softened. “Hey, Anna. How are you? I’m Pamela.”

“Hi.” Anna gave a small wave.

“So, boys, what can I do for you?” Pamela rubbed her hands and sat down at the dining table.

“It’s Anna,” Dean said. “She’s a fallen angel.”

Something shifted behind Pamela’s eyes. “So, the rumours are true,” she said. “I’ve Ouija’d my way through dozens of spirits and they’ve been mentioning these mysterious angels. I thought they were just bullshitting me or didn’t have a clue.”

“No, they were right.” Anna took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Apparently I’m a fallen angel. I – I need to remember, so I can protect myself. Both sides want me – angels and demons.”

“Hmm.” Pamela swung herself out of her seat and crooked a finger in Anna’s direction. “How about you come with me, sweetheart? We’ll crack your noggin, no worries.”

In the panic room, Pamela had Anna lie down on the bed while she sat in the chair next to her. Sam and Dean hovered awkwardly in the doorway.

“Just relax, hon,” Pamela said. “That’s it. Eyes closed. Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? Five…four…three…two…one. Deep sleep, deep sleep. Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Anna said blankly.

“Good. Now, Anna, we’re going to have to go back for you to remember this. You can hear and banish angels. Do you know how you know that?”

“I’m a fallen angel.”

“I mean, what was going through your mind when you drew that sigil? A memory? You remembered some of your angel knowledge?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. I just…drew it.”

“Mm hm.” Pamela nodded. “Who’s your father, Anna?”

“Rich Milton.”

“Not that one. Your real father. Who is he? Can you remember? Can you look far back to when you were two years old?”

“No.” Anna’s voice hitched. “I don’t want to remember.”

“It’s okay, Anna,” Pamela said soothingly. “You’ll be okay. We just need to take a peek to unblock this.”

“But I don’t want to –”

“Come on, Anna. Cast your mind back. Tell me what you see – what you remember.”

“No!” Anna let out a shriek. “He’s gonna kill me! No!”

Sam went to run over to Anna, but Dean grabbed his arm to stop him. As shitty as this was for Anna, she had to remember if she was going to have any chance of surviving. And he couldn’t just up and say where her grace was, because he wasn’t supposed to even know this. Unlocking Anna’s memories was the only logical way to get this done.

Sometimes, Dean wanted to strangle logic.

“No!” Anna’s scream caused the lights to explode and any breakables in the room to shatter into pieces.

“Anna, calm down,” Pamela tried to soothe, but Anna was about to break down into utter hysterics – and with her fallen angel power, she’d probably demolish the entire room. Dean faintly remembered being thrown into a wall when he’d tried to approach Anna the first time around.

“No!”

“Okay, wake in one, two, three, four, five,” Pamela said. Anna stiffened, then sagged against the bed. “Anna? You alright?”

Anna nodded slowly, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Thank you, Pamela,” she gasped. “I – I remember now. I…part of me still doubted it before. Or maybe I wished it wasn’t true.”

“Thanks, Pamela,” Dean said. “You can go now if you want.”

“Wow, rude,” Pamela teased, swinging herself out of her seat. “And here I thought you liked having me around.”

“I do. Honestly, I do.” The image of eyeless Pamela flashed in Dean’s mind. “That’s why you gotta go. Trust me, you don’t want to get between angels and demons when they want something.”

Pamela gave him an appraising look. Behind her, Anna seemed to be studying Dean. Fuck, was she going to be onto his ass even more now that she knew she wasn’t human?

“Fair point,” Pamela finally conceded. “From what the spirits told me, this is stuff I wanna stay far away from. Well, it was nice meeting you boys.” Pamela very blatantly looked Sam and Dean up and down. “You too, Anna.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Sam jumped out of his seat. Pamela smirked at him.

“Least someone around here has some manners. Sure thing, Gigantor.”

The minute Sam and Pamela had left, Anna turned to Dean. “She’d eat you alive.”

Dean snorted, remembering how Sam had said that to him the first time around. “What, because a fallen angel is less intimidating than a psychic?”

“Point.” Anna’s lips twitched. “But I don’t have my grace back. Not yet. So I can’t be that intimidating.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” Dean said. Was it a good idea to flirt with Anna? Probably not. Was it really that wise to sleep with her this time around when he was pining hard for Cas? Not really. But hey, Castiel still had his head up his ass and Dean didn’t see the harm in blowing off a bit of steam. It wasn’t like Castiel even wanted him that way yet. Maybe he wouldn’t ever want him that way. Hell, Dean was still only half-sure that Cas had wanted him.

Sam returned then, cutting off any further flirting attempts, and Dean snorted loudly at the sight of his brother trying in vain to fix his messier hair than usual.

“Nice,” he said. Sam’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

“I – she’s very –” he stammered. “She called my ass ‘so perky she could bounce a nickel off it’.”

Dean snorted again. “Well –”

“So, Anna,” Sam said loudly. “What exactly do you remember?”

“You got a couple thousand years?” Anna said with a wry smile. “Well, I remember Castiel. We were kind of in the same foxhole. Uriel, Balthazar, Hester, Bartholomew, Inias…I remember working with Ishim’s garrison too.”

Dean’s eye twitched at the mention of Ishim, the obsessed bastard. He paused. Lily Sunder was still out there, thirsty for revenge. Should he –

 _Not yet,_ a small voice in his head said. _Not the right time. She probably wouldn’t listen to reason._

“So why do they want to kill you?” Sam said. “Just because you fell?”

“I disobeyed, Sam,” Anna said. “For us, that’s about the worst thing you can do. You might not get through to Castiel any time soon,” she added to Dean. “I know you’re trying – and he always was one of my favourite siblings – but that struggle…well, it took decades of me watching humanity to finally make the call.”

“Great,” Dean muttered.

“So…angels can just become human?” a wide-eyed Sam said.

“It hurts. Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. I ripped out my grace.”

“Angel energy,” Dean said. Anna nodded.

“Yeah. Hacked it out and fell. My mother Amy couldn’t get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was. And the older I got, the longer I was human and the more I…just forgot.”

“So what do we do now?” Sam said. “Heaven wants you dead, and Hell just wants you.”

“Makes sense,” Dean said. “Good luck getting their hands on an actual angel, but one with no grace who can’t fight back would be a goldmine.”

It was a struggle for Dean to keep his mouth shut about where Anna’s grace was, but he managed to stay quiet and leave Sam to track down where it had fallen. Instead, he looked at Anna and nodded at the front door, and she got up and followed him out and around the side of the house. The night air was crisp and chilly; definitely a sharp reminder that winter was nearly on them.

“How’re you holding up?” Dean said. Anna just shrugged and hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms to keep warm.

“Better than I thought. It’s just a little…surreal. Even though I know I’m an angel, it still doesn’t quite feel real.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels.” Dean leaned against the wall, chips of paint dusting his hair like snow. “You fell for a reason, didn’t you?” He sighed and repeated the words he’d said the first time around. “Why would you want to be one of us? I mean, I can’t imagine why you’d want to mingle with the mud monkeys.”

“You don’t mean that,” Anna said quietly.

“You wanna bet? Our low points are…really low.”

“Not as low as demons.”

“Who are human souls.”

“You’re not all bad. There’s loyalty…forgiveness…love.”

Cas’ face, crinkled in a small smile, flashed before Dean’s eyes. “Pain.”

“Chocolate cake.”

In a flash, Cas’ smile was replaced with the blankness of death, his blue eyes closed. “Guilt.” Dean’s voice cracked slightly.

“Sex,” Anna said, her eyes fixed on Dean. He shrugged, out of energy to keep debating about the pros and cons of humanity.

“Yeah, you got me there.”

“I mean it.” Anna reached out and squeezed Dean’s forearm. “Every emotion, Dean, even the bad ones. It's why I fell. It's why…why I'd give anything not to have to go back. Anything.”

_“I love you. I love all of you.”_

_“I hate you. I hate you. But I love you.”_

“Feelings are overrated, if you ask me,” Dean said, trying to ignore the painful lurch of his stomach.

“Beats being an angel,” Anna said.

 _Doubt it. Would be good to not have to feel anything._ “Okay, I’ll give you the obedience under pain of death. But we got that down here. You can’t take one look at humanity and say that we’re any better. That we’re not filthy piles of sin and greed.”

“You’re…passionate about it.” Anna waved her hands. “Angels are…they’re like marble statues. Cold…perfect…flawless. Humans are so…they’re so genuine and passionate, and they have this – this _spark_. No matter what they’re thrown, they just…keep fighting. Keep pushing on.”

“Yeah,” Dean said flatly. Pushing on. That was exactly what he was doing. Without a proper pay-off yet – hell, with even more pain than last time – why was he even doing this? Castiel was still a colossal dick, and Dean was keenly aware that keeping this secret from Sam was only going to cause a rift. Sure, Sam was only starting to become suspicious now, but it would only grow and fester from there. Dean had a _lot_ of experience in keeping secrets from Sam, and it never ended well.

“I mean…I saw you on Alastair’s table.” Anna’s voice was barely audible. “Your arms were a mess, and your – your guts were hanging out –”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“– and you just – you kept fighting! I don’t know what knowledge you’ve got that Alastair wants, but you just refused to give in. And you held out for years in Hell.”

“I cracked there.”

“Dean, an angel would have lasted because of blind obedience. You lasted because of that spark in you.” Anna sighed, looking at Dean in a way that he couldn’t quite figure out. “I haven’t seen your soul yet, but I know that when I do, it’s going to be one of the most beautiful things I’ll ever see. I mean, I could see it in Castiel’s eyes. He likes you. He’s just…afraid to disobey. It’s one of the most terrifying things an angel can do. Kind of like letting yourself fall in love.”

In that moment, Dean was keenly aware of just how many times Cas had turned his back on the angels and chosen humanity. Chosen _them_. How many times had Cas faced this terror – this complete and utter fear of disobedience – and thrown himself headfirst off the cliff? And Dean had repaid him in contempt and anger whenever Cas didn’t do what they wanted. What they said…just like how Heaven had treated him.

“Are you okay?” Anna said, studying him intently. Dean forced a grin on his face and nodded.

“Fine,” he said, trying to ignore the nausea bubbling in his stomach. Was he even doing the right thing by wanting Cas to fall again? Of course he was; Anna had literally just said that Earth was better than Heaven. But…could he live with himself if Cas did choose to fall again? He swore in that moment that if Cas did end up falling, he wasn’t going to treat the guy like last time. He wasn’t going to yell at Cas whenever the angel did something he didn’t like. Hell, the only reason Cas had probably stayed on Earth was because of Anna’s description right then of how humanity was more passionate and whatever.

“I don’t want to go back,” Anna said, tipping her head back to look at the starry canvas above. “But I have to. It would be selfish of me to keep running and pretend that I could just stay out of it all.”

“You’ve always got a choice,” Dean said. “Free will, remember?”

Anna actually laughed at that. “But also feelings. I’d feel guilty if I didn’t do everything in my power to help. I ran from Heaven by falling but this…this is different. Apocalypse different. And even if I don’t end up using my grace, I still need to get it. I have to keep it out of enemy hands.”

Unbidden, Dean’s mind flashed back to how Anna had tried to go back and kill John and Mary in 1978. The urge to punch her and yell that everything in your power wasn’t always the best idea rose in him, but only briefly; he couldn’t cling to that anger when he remembered how Naomi had completely fucked with Cas’ head, brainwashing him to kill Dean. Had she done that to Anna as well? Had it been Naomi who’d attended to Anna after they’d caught her? Whether it was Naomi or someone else, Dean realised that he’d already forgiven Anna for trying to go back and kill his parents. She quite literally hadn’t had a choice. Though if she was as close to humanity as Cas, why hadn’t she been able to snap out of it?

_“You’re family. We need you. I need you.”_

_You know why._ Dean pushed the voice deep, deep down.

“You done?” Anna’s voice cut through Dean’s thoughts, making him jump. “You look like you’re processing or something.”

“Or something.”

“There’s something up with you.” Anna tilted her head in a way eerily reminiscent of Cas. “You just seem…too well-adjusted to everything. I mean, angels? I freaked out when I learned they existed, and I _am_ one! But you…you just seem to be taking everything in stride.”

Dean shrugged. “Hell does that to a person.” But his mind flashed back to the past ten years of the original timeline, not to the Hell that Anna was thinking of.

“Guys!” Sam called from inside. With one last glance at Anna, Dean pushed himself off from the wall and headed on in with her to see what Sam wanted.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Mild Dean/Anna stuff in this chapter. No sex or anything, but there are shirts being removed.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Well, that was a great big pile of nothing,” Dean said when they were holed up in a barn in Kentucky, near the tree that had grown from Anna’s grace but that no longer contained it. “I’m totally sure that both sides definitely won’t double-team us up the ass.”

“Oh, and I suppose you had a better plan?” Sam said. “What, you didn’t hear anything in Hell about this?” His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Wow.” Dean crossed his arms. “Thanks. Tell me how you really feel, Sam.”

“No, I –” Sam tugged on his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry. I’m just…frustrated.”

“You and me both.” But Dean relaxed. Besides, it wasn’t like he was being honest with Sam either, though it wasn’t from lack of desire to be truthful. “We gotta figure something else out so they don’t cream us.”

Sam’s face contorted.

“Sam? What’s goin’ through that nut of yours?” Dean said. Sam heaved a deep sigh.

“I wouldn’t do it, don’t worry,” he said. “I just…sometimes miss using my powers. Not drinking the demon blood!” he hurried to add before Dean could open his mouth. “Just…being able to actually do something. I could exorcise the demons and let you deal with the angels.”

“And lose yourself in the process?” Dean said. “Trust me, Sam, I got a good look at people when they lose their humanity, and you don’t want to end up that way. Anything that comes from demons can’t be good.”

“I know.” Sam shrugged. “I just…sometimes can’t help thinking that.”

“Um…guys?” Anna interrupted. “The angels are talking again.”

“What are they saying?” Sam said. Anna frowned and closed her eyes.

“It’s weird. Like a recording…a loop. It says, ‘Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or…’”

“Or what?” Dean said.

“‘…or we hurl him back to damnation’.”

“Man, I love winged dicks,” Dean mumbled to himself.

“Anna, do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?” Sam said. “Something that would kill them?”

Anna shook her head. “Nothing that we could get to right now.”

“Well, in light of our imminent demise and my lovely trip back downstairs, I’m gonna catch some fresh air,” Dean said mock-cheerfully. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Once outside, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the sharp chill of the air biting into his nostrils. He crossed over to the Impala and hoisted himself up onto her, careful not to scrape any of her paint off with his boots as he rearranged himself on her hood, and then he laid back and stared up at the night sky.

This was all bullshit. He was stuck in a time that wasn’t his own, with a brother who was sort of his but just _not_. The guy he was madly in love with probably didn’t even know what human love was yet – and man, wasn’t that a kick in the balls? Of course he could only admit that he was in love with Cas when he couldn’t have Cas. Because this was Castiel, and Castiel was a son of a bitch who was too chicken-shit to disobey orders.

_“He likes you. He’s just…afraid to disobey. It’s one of the most terrifying things an angel can do. Kind of like letting yourself fall in love.”_

And wasn’t that the truth? Falling in love was probably the most terrifying thing in the world to Dean. It was easy to close himself off and pretend that he was really a charming asshole who didn’t give a shit. It was easy to have a quick fuck and then get out before things got serious. But love? That stuff was heavy. And Dean was barely coping with coming to terms with his feelings for Cas, let along processing his feelings for Sam and Mary.

What if he hadn’t repressed everything after that night in the barn? What if he hadn’t just pasted a smile and pretended that he didn’t understand the significance of Cas saying those words; that he didn’t damn well know that Cas had been directing those dying words at him and not just Sam and Mary? Would things have turned out differently? Or had it worked in the long run, protecting him even a fraction when Cas had died for real?

 _But he died not knowing,_ a nasty voice snickered. _And he’ll never know. Even if you get this Castiel to fall, so what? He’s still not your Cas. And he’ll never be your Cas. Your Cas is gone._

“Shut up!” Dean growled, burying his face in his hands.

_Gone. Never coming back._

“I get it!” Dean thumped his head against Baby’s windshield. “I get it! What d’you want me to say? I love him! Okay? I love him! And I can’t do this shit anymore! You hear me?”

As expected, there was no answer from Chuck or anyone who might’ve been listening.

“I can’t.” Dean squeezed his stinging eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping. “I can’t change shit without getting tortured. And I can’t let things stay the same when I know! What the hell more do you want from me?”

“And I thought I was the one who was supposed to be having mental breakdowns,” a voice said. Dean jerked and whipped around to see Anna standing near the Impala, hands in her pockets and an odd smile touching her lips.

“Hell tends to do that to you,” Dean said thickly.

“Sure.” Anna pushed herself up onto the hood with him. “Let’s go with that, because I know trying to get answers from you is like – well, I was going to use blood out of a stone, but that’s probably not the best analogy.”

Dean’s stomach twinged in phantom pain, almost as though reminding him of Alastair’s torture. “Yeah, probably not.”

“Anyway, I, um…I just wanted to thank you for everything. You guys – you didn’t have to help me –”

“Hey, let's can the ‘thanks for trying’ speech, okay?” Dean said. “Participation trophies suck ass.”

“I don’t know.” Anna looked down. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be saved.”

“Bullshit. Everyone deserves to be saved.”

“Everyone except you?”

Dean opened his mouth, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t sound totally hypocritical. “Not after everything I’ve done,” he finally said weakly. “Trust me, I’ve done some of the worst shit imaginable.”

Anna sighed. “Look, about a week ago, I heard the angels talking. About you…what you did in Hell. Dean, I know. It wasn’t your fault. You should forgive yourself.”

Dean snorted darkly. “You got no idea what you’re talking about. But thanks for the advice.”

Anna studied Dean for a long moment. “You’re not alone,” she said. “You’ve got support when you want it.” Then she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, and Dean’s eyes closed as he groaned softly and reciprocated. Maybe this was what he needed. Maybe he just needed a night to…forget.

“What was that for?” he said when they separated. Anna shrugged.

“You know…our last night on earth…all that.”

“Hey, you’re stealing my best line.”

They ended up in the back of the Impala, Dean’s eyes fluttering shut as he allowed himself to get lost in the sensations of Anna’s lips against his, of the fruity scent of her red hair enveloping him, of her warm body pressing against his. Yes. This was what he needed. He hadn’t gotten laid in so long because he’d been so hung-up over Cas-slash-Castiel, so a distraction was exactly what the doctor ordered.

“You okay?” Anna murmured against his mouth, shucking off her jacket. Dean chuckled.

“Never been better, sweetheart.” He slid his hands up her shirt, fingers skimming across the clasp of her bra, and she giggled and raised her arms to let him pull her shirt off. Her creamy skin gleaming in the moonlight was gorgeous, and Dean’s stomach lurched pleasantly when he finally undid and pulled her black bra away and her breasts spilled free.

“No fair,” Anna said, toying with the hem of Dean’s shirt. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage here.”

Dean grinned, easily sliding back into “ladies’ man Dean Winchester” mode. “How ‘bout we fix that, then?” he said and shucked his own shirt off. Anna immediately latched her lips onto his collarbone, nipping and sucking, though not hard enough to mark him up. Dean groaned and fell back against the Impala door, Anna on top of him, her boobs crushed to his chest and causing tingles to erupt all over his skin. Letting out a faint laugh, Dean closed his eyes and slid his hands down her slim body and into her jeans, cupping her firm ass.

But there was something missing here. The physical sensations of having Anna pressed against him and kissing down his chest were nice…but that was about it. No matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn’t get the image of blue eyes and dark, messy hair out of his mind. Anna’s soft moans were appealing enough, but they couldn’t compare to a low, gravelly voice. She was nice and soft and curvy, but that wasn’t what Dean was after right now. He craved to have hard, solid muscle on top of him, pinning him to the seat and brushing stubble across his chest while sucking hickeys bordering on pain. Hell, even Anna’s breasts weren’t doing anything for him at the moment, and he was a very firm appreciator of a nice pair of tits.

Dimly, he realised that Anna had stopped kissing his chest and had pulled away, sapping him of her warmth entirely. When Dean opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Anna’s furrowed brow.

“You don’t want this,” she said.

“What?” Dean tried to scoff. “Course I do, babe. You’re gorgeous.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m attractive. But it’s not me. You’re…hung up over someone, aren’t you?”

“What? No!”

Sighing, Anna slipped off Dean and fumbled for her shirt. Dean mourned the loss; not of Anna’s breasts, but rather her body heat and soft weight.

“Look, I can tell when someone’s not into it,” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”

“Anna –”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Anna swung her legs onto the seat and leaned against the other door.

“I – there is no girl.”

“Guy, then?” Anna snickered when Dean spluttered. “I can tell you swing both ways. You give off a sort of vibe. I don’t care, you know.”

“It’s Cas,” Dean blurted out. So he was weak. Sue him. “Cas. That’s who I’m into.”

Anna’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Sucks to be you,” she said. “I don’t think he likes you _that_ much yet.”

“No, not Castiel.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “ _Cas_. Cas is in love with me. Castiel isn’t.”

“Um…okay?” Anna looked at Dean like he’d gone mad. “I wasn’t aware that there was a difference.”

Dean groaned and hit his head against the window behind him. _Fuck it. Smite me for all I care._ “I’m from the future. From 2017.”

This time, the silence between them stretched on for a good minute. Anna just stared at Dean unblinkingly, pale eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I know I sound crazy,” Dean said. But it’s –”

“If you think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, you must be pretty sheltered,” Anna interrupted. Dean gaped at her. “Time travel? I’m an angel, Dean. And I’ve just gone from being a normal human to finding out again that all this exists in the span of a few days. That’s one of the least crazy things I’ve come across.”

“Oh, thank god.” Dean sagged against the door. “So, you believe me?”

“Sort of? I mean, it explains a lot about you now that I think about it. It’s just…kind of hard to process when I’m dealing with everything else.”

“Makes sense.”

“Especially when it’s an older soul in a younger body.” Anna squinted at Dean. “I’ve never heard of time travel working like that. I’m not even sure what would’ve happened to your younger soul, because that’s all I can see. It must be disguising your older soul. Whoever sent you back did their homework.”

Dean grinned and shrugged. He was tempted to spill that it was her oh-so-benevolent father who’d sent him back, but he didn’t want to push his luck quite that much. He was already in hot water for telling her this in the first place.

“2017, huh?” Anna said. “That’s…wow. So, I’m assuming there was no Apocalypse? I don’t think you’d have made it nine years before coming back.”

“There was,” Dean said. “We stopped it. But Lucifer came back. Twice.”

“How bad was it?” Anna said, rubbing her foot along his calf. “To warrant coming back and leaving that Sam and Cas behind? I’m assuming that Cas did end up rebelling, with how you speak about him.”

Dean gave a little dark laugh. “Really bad. Like, everyone-dies-and-everyone-hates-us-and-we-stopped-like-three-ends-of-the-world kind of bad. Plus, Lucifer had a kid, and we didn’t know whether he’d be good or bad. That’s…that’s what got Cas…”

Anna’s face fell. “Oh. Wow. And you and Cas were –?”

“No! No.” Dean’s shoulders slumped. “He told me when he was dying, even though he didn’t actually die. That time. But I…I didn’t tell him. I was a coward. I just couldn’t tell him that I – that I loved him.”

It was so surreal to say those words out loud like that. Sure, he’d admitted it to himself and even voiced it, but actually saying it to another person was both enormously liberating and ridiculously terrifying. Dean’s heart actually skipped a beat when the words escaped his mouth.

“It kills me.” Dean’s voice started to crack. “That – that this Cas hates me. And part of me wants him to fall again but…part of me doesn’t want that to pull him down again. ‘Cause he went through so much shit, and Heaven hated him, and he died so many times and got brought back by Ch – by God…all ‘cause he picked me. Who the fuck am I to drag him down into the mud?”

“Oh, Dean.” Anna leaned forward and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “I’ve been listening to what the angels have to say and trust me, Cas doesn’t hate you. He’s just…really intrigued by you, from what I’ve heard of his conversations. From my own experience? It’s absolutely terrifying him. It’s scaring the hell out of him that he’s having these doubts, and that the other angels will find out and he’ll be punished. That’s how I felt when I fell.”

“I know what they’ll do to him if he disobeys.” Dean tugged his hand out of Anna’s and crossed his arms, curling in on himself. “I saw what they did to him a few years back – well, a few years on from now, technically. I’m – I’m fuckin’ selfish, Anna. I want my Cas back, and I know I’ll never get him back. So I want this Cas to fall. And I know he’s not my Cas and never will be. Believe me, I’ve been working on making my peace with that. But I…I still love him, because he’s still Cas. If that makes sense?”

“It does,” Anna said with a gentle smile. “Just give it time. If Cas chose you the first time around, he’ll do it again. And this time, you actually like him and didn’t spend nine years with your head up your ass. That’s gotta count for something.” She sidled along the seat, pushing Dean’s legs off so that she could lean into his side. “We can still just cuddle, if you want. You weren’t into the sexy stuff, but I saw your face when I pulled away.”

“I do not _cuddle_ , for your information,” Dean scowled, but he still snuggled up to Anna when she opened her arms.

“Sure, Dean,” Anna said in amusement, pulling him closer. He melted against her warm, solid body heat, idly thinking that this was far better than any sex could be. Hell, as fun as sex was, what Dean really craved was the intimacy of just holding each other and talking, like he and Anna were doing. But most random people didn’t want to snuggle with complete strangers, so sex was the only way to get what he really wanted – and even then, there was still that invisible barrier between strangers.

Don’t get him wrong; Dean was totally a sexual creature. He jerked off to porn, got hot and bothered at the sight of a hot chick or dude, and he’d go completely nuts without regular sex. But in the grand scheme of things, sex was just sex. There was nothing intimate about it unless he was doing it with someone he loved – and good luck with _that_. It was impossible for him to feel that way about someone unless he took the time to get to know them, which a life on the road didn’t exactly lend itself well to. Besides, said life on the road pretty much killed any chance of romance dead. The only person who could hold their own and consistently stuck by him long enough for that kind of bond to form was…Cas.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled into the darkness.

“What for?” Anna said. She lifted a hand and started to card her fingers through his hair, and Dean purred and absolutely melted. How long had it been since he’d been touched like this? Not sexually. Just…sensually.

“I thought you were a bitch for years,” he said. “You went back to 1978 and tried to kill our parents so Sammy and I were never born to start the Apocalypse. And I spent years hating you. But – but then Cas got nabbed by Naomi and she fucked with his head to try and make him kill me, and he – he almost did. And I didn’t realise until then how much Heaven must’ve fucked with your head. I thought you went Glenn Close until you got torched by past Michael just for the hell of it.”

Anna was quiet for a short while. “I’ll make sure to not get brainwashed this time,” she joked. “That’s not the only time Naomi got to Cas, you know. Not many angels know about her but…I remember her. She’s part of the reason I fell. I think she messed up her ‘reconditioning’ of me one time and I remembered everything. It was –” Anna’s breath hitched. “It was torture. I spent centuries after that making sure I didn’t put a toe out of line or do anything to get sent back to her. And Cas…he’s probably the angel she’s worked on most. But she was never able to get him to stop questioning. To stop having doubts. He’s always been the angel with a crack in his chassis.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No. It’s a good thing. From what you’ve told me, it’s the best thing for him. You two wouldn’t have built such a close bond otherwise. He’s always been the brother I was closest to.” Anna gave a small chuckle.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Dean said, trying to burrow further into her body heat. “About this Marty McFly stuff? ‘Cause I wasn’t even meant to tell you. I just got sick of being so goddamn alone here.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” Anna said nothing for a moment. “How did you come back, anyway?”

“Can’t tell you that. Sorry, sweetheart. And not because I don’t want to, but ‘cause I’ll probably get my ass roasted.”

“Fair enough.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, with Anna still stroking Dean’s hair and holding him close to her. It wasn’t long before Dean drifted into the easiest sleep in a long time, aided by Anna’s close, warm, comforting presence.

* * *

 

“Seriously, Dean?”

Dean blinked and jerked upright on the squashy red sofa. Wait…wasn’t he in the backseat of the Impala? What was he doing in this cosy little living room?

“You’re dreaming,” the voice said. The owner of the voice was none other than Chuck Shurley, reclining in an armchair nearby with a very disapproving look on his face. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“Oh, well, excuse me for being fuckin’ human,” Dean growled, his blood boiling. “I couldn’t just go back nine years and be all alone without _someone_ knowing.”

“The whole point of you going back and changing things is that you don’t tell anyone that’s what you’re doing!” Chuck waved his hands in the air. “That’s, like, the entire point of any time travel story ever!”

“Brother?” A familiar brunette poked her head in the room. “Are you writing again?”

“Amara?” Dean blinked. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“You are,” Chuck said. “I just brought your consciousness here. I couldn’t visit your mind without Anna sensing something.”

“Hello, Dean,” Amara said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah…you too,” Dean said, shifting awkwardly. He didn’t hold any ill will towards Amara, but she wasn’t exactly someone he’d choose to have a conversation with.

“You liked my gift?”

“Oh – oh, yeah! A lot! Exactly what I needed! Thanks, Amara.”

Amara blinked owlishly and continued to study Dean for a long moment.

“How about you go play another round of Mario Kart with Mary?” Chuck said just when the atmosphere was starting to get really uncomfortable. “And no more threatening to destroy her just because she pummels you with blue shells or beats you at Rainbow Road.”

“I will annihilate whichever evil human created that infernal course,” Amara growled.

“Uh…good luck with that,” Dean said. Amara gave him an odd smile, then disappeared from the doorway. Dean turned to Chuck. “Mom’s here?”

“I did say I’d keep her with me,” Chuck said.

“But I thought Raphael was keeping an eye on you?”

“I told you, my consciousness can be in many places at once. The me in your current timeline is getting a headache and writing notes for another _Supernatural_ book as we speak.” Chuck’s face settled in a scowl. “Look, let’s not get off-topic. You’re here because apparently you need a reminder of what ‘no telling’ means.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d know how it feels to be all alone in a completely different timeline,” Dean snapped. “At least you got Amara to hang out with. I got _no one_ , man. I am _so_ grateful I got to redo it and make things better for Sam and Cas, but my Sammy doesn’t exist anymore and my Cas is _dead_. You know what it’s like to have the love of your freaking life think that you’re a mud monkey?”

Oh, wow. He’d actually called Cas the love of his life out loud. The significance clearly wasn’t lost on Chuck, because his stony face softened.

“You’re right,” he said. “I honestly didn’t consider how hard this would be on you. Look, I won’t smite your ass for telling Anna, but you can’t tell anyone else. Okay? The more people you tell, the harder it’ll end up being for you.”

“Okay, but when can I tell Sam?” Dean said. “You can’t expect me to keep something like this from him forever.”

“Just wait. You’ll know the right time.” Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a vacation. I forgot how damn hard it was to play a prophet. And I’ve had to create things for Amara to blow up so that she can satisfy her destructive tendencies without taking it out on Earth again. She’s still pissed at me because erasing that other timeline also erased all the souls she consumed.”

“That’s great. Uh…can I talk to Mom?” Dean shifted in his seat. “Just five minutes. I just…I have to talk to _someone_ who’s not from 2008, and no offence, dude, but you don’t count.”

Chuck sighed. “Five minutes. Then I’ll have to send you back. For what it’s worth, you might not think you’ve changed much yet, but you’re doing well, Dean.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Chuck vanished from his armchair like he was never even there in the first place. The next moment, a familiar woman with long blonde hair appeared in his place, blinking and staring around like she was on a bad acid trip.

“What the –?” Her eyes landed on Dean. “…Dean?”

“Mom?” Dean tried not to let his voice break. It was Mary, almost exactly as she’d been when she’d disappeared into the portal with Lucifer. The only difference was that her hair was long again, and she was wearing a different jeans-and-flannel combination. “I – your hair –”

Mary gave a small laugh and reached up to touch her hair. “Not my choice. God – er, Chuck – he had to merge my soul with the younger version from this timeline. Like he did to you. I ended up in the younger body.” Mary’s eyes pored over every inch of Dean. “You look so…young.”

“I wonder why,” Dean said. “Probably ‘cause I’m stuck in a body that’s nine years younger than me.”

Mary snorted. “I don’t mean age-wise, though that’s true too. You just look like…you’ve got much less of a weight on your shoulders. Until I look into your eyes. Then I know you’re my Dean.”

 _Her_ Dean. That was the first time Mary had referred to him as such. Usually, she was going on about how he wasn’t her Dean and how she missed her baby boys.

“I’m…sorry for what I said,” Dean said, trying not to let his voice crack. “I mean, not for most of what I said, but for saying I – that I hated you.”

Mary’s eyes softened. “Come here,” she said, holding out her arms. Dean immediately stumbled over and let her pull him down into her lap and hold him close, though he was furiously denying to himself that he was such a touch-starved little shit. “You were right to say that. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

“But you were right,” Dean said. “You needed your space, to adjust. I should’ve –”

“No.” Mary looked him in the eye firmly. “Don’t you dare apologise for speaking your mind for once in your life. Chuck showed me your life after I died. You had every right to call me out, and I should’ve been there for you no matter what. I’m your mom. That’s my job. And…I’m sorry I didn’t realise that until it was too late.”

Dean buried his face in the crook of Mary’s neck, inhaling her earthy scent deeply. His body shook with the sob he forced himself to hold back, because that was quite enough emotional catharsis for one night, thank you very much. Was this what it was like to be hugged by his mother? None of his memories from when he was four had really been this tangible.

“You were kickass in 1973,” he mumbled into her skin. “Sucks you don’t remember it.”

“No, but Chuck showed me.” Mary kissed the top of Dean’s head. “I’m sorry, baby. I never should’ve made that deal.”

“No, you should’ve. That world you ended up in? You never made the deal in that world, so Sam and I were never born.”

Mary’s breath hitched.

“Yeah, our lives fuckin’ sucked.” Dean pulled back to look at Mary’s face. “They still do. But…knowing what things’d be like without us? And besides…I’d do the same for Sam or Cas. Hell, I did do it for Sam.”

A small smile spread across Mary’s face. “You’re one of the most amazing people I know,” she said, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I’m so proud you’re my son. You’ve made some bad decisions, but you’ve done so much good. I’m…shit, I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that. The John I knew was the sweetest man.”

Dean shrugged. “Grief changes people. I get it, even if I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“Sorry to interrupt one of the most heart-warming bonding scenes I’ve ever seen.” Where the fuck did Chuck come from? “You need to go back now, Dean. You’re due one ‘give us Anna or you die’ dream from Uriel.”

Dean’s face fell. He couldn’t leave Mary. Not yet! He’d only just gotten her back!

“Hey.” Mary pulled Dean into a short hug. “You got this. You’ll save this timeline and then I’ll be right there with you. And…I’ll get to start over with Sam. I’ll get to actually be there for him.”

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “I’d like that.”

Mary smiled. “Go kick them in the ass, baby. See you soon.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Junkless has your grace,” Dean announced when he woke up. Anna, still snuggled up to him, jerked awake.

“Huh?” she said blearily.

“Uriel. Just had a dream. He has your grace and he wants me to hand you over or he’ll throw me in Hell and kill Sam.”

Anna yawned and wiped her eyes. “He wouldn’t really do that. Not if he’d be disobeying orders. He’s just trying to intimidate you.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean said. “But we can use this. Last time, we got the angels and demons in one place and they duked it out.”

“You think we could do that again?” Anna frowned.

“Should be able to. We got Ruby to bring Alastair last time, so obviously that’s a no-go this time. But burning the hex bags should be enough, and I can always make more.”

“Hmm.” Anna pulled away from Dean so that she could stretch. Dean mourned the loss of warmth. “What the hell? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

* * *

“You sure about this?” Dean said. “It’s gonna get messy when we burn these hex bags. We’ll get Cas and Junkless, but we’ll also get Alastair and his posse.”

“What else can we do?” Sam said. “We can’t keep running and hiding. They’re gonna catch up eventually. You’re right – getting the angels and demons in the same room is our best bet.”

“Right. You –” Dean pointed at Anna, “– work on getting your grace from Junkless, okay?”

Anna nodded. “I don’t want it back. I refuse to use it. But the angels – they can’t have something that powerful. And if I’m going to be helping you, I’d kind of like a backup option if I need it.”

“What?” Sam blinked. “Since when –”

“Dean and I had a long talk last night.” Anna shot Dean a look out of the corner of her eyes. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, do I? My parents are – well, you know. And I can’t possibly go back to college and just pretend that everything’s back to normal, especially since I’m still a ward escapee. Plus, the angels and demons will still be looking for me.”

“I’m sure we’ve got room to spare for a stray, Sammy,” Dean smirked. Anna rolled her eyes. “Okay, so Anna takes care of Uriel, and Sammy and I try and take out Alastair.”

“We can’t take out a white-eyed demon, Dean!” Sam said. “Not without a powerful weapon. Trust me, I looked for months after you – well.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment. “I know,” Dean finally said. “But we can exorcise him. We just gotta keep him busy long enough.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Worst comes to worst, Anna can take her grace back.” Dean paused and tried to figure out how to proceed without making Sam suspicious. “Cramming that much energy into a small human meat’s gotta do something, right?”

“My body will explode and take out any demon in the whole building,” Anna said, gesturing around the small barn. “You too, if you don’t close your eyes. I’d prefer not to, but I’ll do it if Alastair’s too strong for us to handle.”

“What about Cas?” Sam said. “You know he’ll be attacking us too. And I know you like him, Dean, but I’m not about to die for him.”

“Try and avoid hurting him as much as possible,” Anna interjected before Dean could respond. “I remember him – he was the brother I was closest to. He’s not a bad guy, he just needs a push.”

Dean shot Anna a grateful look when Sam turned away. She quirked her lips and nodded in response.

“Let’s wait ten minutes or so,” Dean said. “It’s not even eight a.m. yet.” He pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a large swig, the whiskey burning deliciously as it trickled down his throat.

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” Anna said. Dean shrugged.

“It’s two a.m. somewhere. I’m gonna go get some fresh air before this all goes down.”

Once he was outside, Dean crossed over to his Baby and leaned against the driver’s door. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Cas, you got your listening ears on?” he said, looking up at the sky. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want Anna to banish you. I just…Cas, I know there’s a weird, dorky little guy in there somewhere. He’s just trapped under the layer of ‘dickbag angel’. But…Christ, I can’t believe I’m gonna be a chick, but…I believe in you. I believe you’re better than the other dicks. And I believe that you can tell them all to fuck off and make your own choices.”

Nobody appeared out of either the barn or thin air, so Dean took another deep breath and continued.

“I – I’m not asking for me. I mean, yeah, I’d love it if you were down here with me and we were besties and braided each other’s hair. But I want you to do it for you. I want you to be free. To make your own choices. I’m not gonna force you, though. I just…want you to think about it.”

Dean waited a few moments, but Cas didn’t descend from the heavens and acknowledge his prayer by either smiling or smiting. His shoulders slumped. Knowing his luck, he’d probably just fucked it all up and confused the heck out of Cas. Why the hell would 2008 Dean be saying this stuff to the guy who threatened to throw him back in Hell? This was all 2017 Dean.

 _Nice going, Dean,_ he thought dully. _Just can’t keep it together for two goddamn minutes, can you? Next thing you know, you’ll be having an emotional breakdown while Alastair’s threatening to run you through._

He took a few more minutes to compose himself, gulping in deep breaths of air with his eyes closed, before eventually sighing and heading back inside to face the music. Sam and Anna, sprawled on the straw-covered floor against one of the wooden walls, jumped up when he entered.

“Ready?” he said. Sam and Anna nodded. “Right. Chuck ‘em over.”

Sam and Anna tossed their hex bags to Dean, who pulled his own out of his pocket, along with a lighter. He hesitated for a moment, then flicked the lighter on, set flame to his hex bag, and quickly dropped it to the ground. He repeated the process with Sam and Anna’s bags.

“Now we wait,” he said. “Whoever finds us, the other’ll come running. And remember, act like I sold Anna out or they’ll know we’re up to something.”

It didn’t take very long for them to be found. In fact, it couldn’t have been more than two minutes before the barn doors flew open with a loud crash to announce Castiel and Uriel’s arrival.

“Hello, Anna,” Castiel said, but his eyes kept flitting to Dean. “It’s good to see you.”

Dean could see the exact moment that Sam’s mask slipped into place. “How?” his brother demanded. “How did you find us? Dean?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said to Anna. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to act like he didn’t have some sort of background motivation, since it was pretty much what he’d been doing the moment he landed in this timeline.

“Why?” Sam said. Damn, Dean was proud of Sam’s acting skills.

“Because they gave me a choice,” Anna said. “They either kill me…or they kill you. I know how their minds work.”

Dean was slightly thrown when, instead of kissing him like she had last time around, Anna instead pulled Dean into a tight hug.

“It _is_ with Uriel,” she murmured into his ear. “I can feel it.” She pulled away before Dean could respond. “You did the best you could. I forgive you. Okay…no more tricks. No more running. I’m ready.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, but his voice was completely devoid of tone. Dean couldn’t tell whether he was really having doubts and emotions right now, or whether he’d even heard Dean’s prayer from earlier.

“No, you’re not,” Anna said coolly, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Not really. You don’t know the feeling.”

Dean swallowed down every protest he wanted to make, reminding himself yet again that this was 2008 and not 2017. This wasn’t his Cas. He had to remember that if he wanted to keep himself together.

“Still, we have a history,” Castiel said. “It’s just –”

“Orders are orders,” Anna said. “I know. Just make it quick.”

Dean couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or terrified when Alastair and another demon appeared out of thin air, bringing the stench of sulfur and decay with them. That had been super quick. Why the hell had they even needed Ruby the first time around? Probably just to throw up a smokescreen.

“Don’t you touch a hair on that poor girl’s head,” Alastair said, nasally voice more pronounced than ever. Dean tried to ignore how his heart started to race, while Anna had gone the colour of chalk next to him.

“How dare you come into this room,” Uriel snarled. “You pussing sore.”

Alastair tsked. “Name-calling. That hurt my feelings…you sanctimonious, fanatical prick.”

“Turn around and walk away now,” Cas ordered. Dean had to channel every tiny scrap of willpower into not imagining that voice directed at him in a completely different setting.

“Sure,” Alastair said. “Just give us the girl. We’ll make sure she gets punished good and proper.”

“Like you did back at that place?” Anna muttered, too low for Alastair to hear.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Dean hissed back. Meanwhile, the angels and demons were still having their dick-measuring contest, and it was honestly kind of amusing in a sick way to watch. Dean couldn’t help but be reminded of shitty high school pissing contests, except that these were super-powerful celestial beings going at each other.

The verbal sparring turned physical in a heartbeat. Before Dean could even blink, Uriel was diving at Alastair and going for the throat, while Sam cornered Alastair’s lackey.

“Jesus!” Dean yelped.

“I thought you were paying attention!” Anna shouted over the racket, trying to angle around to get at Uriel. She’d only taken a few steps, however, before her path was blocked by Castiel. Dean immediately jumped in front of her, crowding her back against the wall away from Castiel.

“You don’t want to do this, Cas,” Dean said, looking Castiel straight in the eye. To Dean’s astonishment, however, Castiel didn’t even have his blade pointed at Anna.

“You prayed to me,” he said, frowning. “This morning. Why did you say all of that?”

“Is now really the time?” Dean said, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam or Alastair. Castiel just stared at him rather blankly. “Uh, because I meant it? I kinda like you. You’re better than all those other dicks, but I want you to make those choices for yourself. Like Anna did.”

“Falling? Taking control of my existence?” Anna said. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was so worth it! Free will, Castiel! I don’t have to listen to anyone anymore! I was in college with a journalism major and that was _my_ choice! _Mine_! _I_ wanted to do that!”

Castiel opened his mouth, but he was promptly sent flying into the wall by an invisible force. That invisible force turned out to be Alastair, who regarded Anna with an oily smile that made Dean want to hurl violently.

“Come now, sweetheart,” Alastair said. “Make things easier on yourself, hmm? You’ve seen what I did to Dean. That’s barely even scratching the surface of what I could do to you if you were a naughty girl.”

Dean just pushed Anna further behind himself, staring Alastair defiantly in the eye. Before Alastair could attack them, though, Castiel lunged at him from behind and he was forced to turn and block the attack.

“Go, go!” Dean whispered to Anna. She ducked around him and sprinted towards where Sam and Uriel were currently duking it out, though Uriel looked to have the strong upper hand.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Alastair clucked, holding Castiel by the throat. Dean’s heart leapt into his own throat at the sight. “Why don’t you go run to Daddy?”

As Alastair began to chant an angel exorcism, Dean looked around feverishly for a possible weapon. He spied a crowbar nearby and snatched it up, then swung it at Alastair’s head as hard as he could. The metal connected with Alastair’s skull with a sickening _crack_ and he dropped Castiel, whose eyes and mouth were glowing bright white.

_With a squelch, a blade was protruding from Cas’ chest, painting his white shirt scarlet. Bright white light emanated from his eyes and mouth as his heavenly essence burned itself up within its vessel._

Dean was wrenched out of his flashback by a fist smashing into his face, sending him crashing to the ground. His cheek erupted in white hot pain, and he groaned and raised a hand to prod gingerly at what was going to be a brilliant bruise for sure.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Alastair crouched to grab the lapels of Dean’s coat, hauling him up off the ground. “I am so disappointed. You had such promise.”

Behind Alastair, Dean hazily made out the shape of Uriel crashing to the ground, emitting the bright light of dying angels. _Good goin’, guys,_ Dean thought groggily as Anna crouched down to grab her grace from around the neck of Uriel’s corpse.

“Look at that,” Alastair grinned. He turned to face Sam and Anna, dragging Dean around with him. “I seem to be outnumbered.”

“Let go of Dean,” Sam snarled.

“Or what?” Alastair said. “Dean, you haven’t told baby brother about your extracurricular activities, have you? I was never able to cut that shame out of you.”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus –” Anna began, the Latin flowing smoothly off her tongue.

“Really?” Alastair sighed as his face began to twitch. “And we were having such an enjoyable time together.”

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii –” Sam joined in.

“Oh, well.” Alastair let go of Dean, letting him crash to the ground. Sam and Anna, taken by surprise, faltered in their exorcism. “Keep the girl for now. I’ve just found something much more _delightful_ to sink my teeth into.”

It was like watching a car crash unfurl before his eyes. Before Dean could let out a yell of protest, Alastair’s hand whipped out and grabbed Castiel’s tie.

“NO!” Dean bellowed, but it was too late. Alastair was gone, taking Castiel with him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> ...I'm so sorry.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

_Week 1_

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. “Please. You gotta be okay. I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to be dragged into that.”

There was no reply. Swearing, Dean pummelled the shitty pillow on the shitty motel bed, blinking furiously so that his stinging eyes didn’t release the torrent of tears he was trying to hold back.

_Week 2_

“You gotta fight him, Cas,” Dean growled. “I know it hurts. I know it’s absolute hell. But you gotta fight him. I know you’re strong. I know you can do it. Please…”

_Week 3_

“I’m gonna save you, Cas,” Dean swore. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll tear the planet apart if I have to. You don’t deserve this. I’m gonna find you and I’m gonna save you, and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, even if you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. This wasn’t meant to happen –”

“Dean?” Sam said hesitantly from behind him.

“What?” Dean growled, whirling around. Sam held up his hands.

“I just…I don’t get why you care about Cas so much,” he said slowly. “I mean, he’s not a bad guy, but he’s…a bit of a dick. He tried to kill Anna just because he was told to. And you…barely know him.”

“You don’t know shit!” Everything that had been bubbling in Dean for the past three weeks boiled over and exploded, and he seized Bobby’s lamp and hurled it across the room to crash into the opposite wall. “You just – I don’t –”

It was all too much. There were so many different emotions whirling and surging through Dean that he couldn’t even find the right words to have a proper screaming fit, so he just let out a wordless roar and stormed out of Bobby’s house. The door quietly opened a few moments later, when he was resting his head on the cool wall and trying to resist the urge to bash his brains out against it.

“Not fucking now, Sam,” he growled.

“It’s me,” came a different voice than he was expecting. Dean turned his head slightly to see Anna standing there, hands in her pockets and a sad little smile on her face.

“What?” Dean said shortly. “The fuck do you want?”

Anna didn’t seem perturbed by his tone. “I told Sam that you were remembering Castiel rescuing you from Hell,” she said, leaning her back against the brick. “And that was why you cared so much about him now. But now he’s annoyed that you’ve been talking to me and not him, so sorry for that.” She tilted her head. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Don’t fucking mock me.”

“I’m not. Look, we’ll save him, okay? We’ll figure out a way to find him. But since we’re not anywhere near that point…I was wondering if you could – you know – train me as a hunter.”

Well, that question was so out of left field that Dean was rendered speechless, just blinking at Anna for several long moments.

“Don’t you already know how to fight?” he finally said.

“I know how to fight as an angel,” Anna said. “And I know we found my angel blade last week, but I’m not an angel at the moment.” She grasped the grace hanging around her neck. “I never saw the necessity to learn as a human. Look, even if you just find us an easy case for me to warm myself up with. I’m not hopeless, but I’m not nearly as skilled as you. There’s a difference between the…well, the detached knowledge of an angel and the gritty experience that hunters like you have from being in the thick of it.”

She did make a good point. She’d been an innocent civilian only a month ago, so it made sense to get her up to speed, especially if she was going to be tagging along with them from now on. In a way, she kind of reminded him of Claire from his old timeline, with her stubbornness and refusal to just sit back and –

Dean’s eyes widened. Holy shit. How could he have forgotten about the Novaks? Jimmy and Amelia had been thoroughly screwed over the first time around, with Claire only turning herself around because of Cas’ intervention and care.

“There is somewhere you can come with me,” he said. “Somewhere I can’t bring Sam or Bobby without ‘em getting suspicious about how I know this stuff.”

If he couldn’t take care of Castiel right now, he could do the next best thing: take care of Castiel’s vessel’s family. He really owed it to his Cas to look out for Claire, especially because she wasn’t going to have much more luck getting her father back in this timeline than in the other one.

“You know I’m in,” Anna said, her lips curved in a smile.

* * *

“So, wait, back up,” Anna said as they sped towards Pontiac, Illinois. “Cas just…suddenly started feeling bad for his vessel’s daughter and decided to care for her?”

“I don’t think it was random,” Dean said. “That was kind of a shitty time for him. His stolen grace was burning out –”

“ _Stolen grace_?” Anna repeated, aghast.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Shit happened and someone took Cas’ grace. He was human. Just…without the amnesia. So he went and took another angel’s grace to get out of a shitty situation.”

“Oh, wow,” Anna said softly. “That must’ve been so tough on him.”

“Would’ve been better if I hadn’t kicked him out,” Dean laughed darkly. “I had my reasons, but they were shitty reasons. No excuse. I’ve felt like a pile of shit ever since. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

To her credit, Anna didn’t push for more information about that. Instead, she said, “So, Cas and Claire?”

“Oh, right.” Dean shook his head. “Cas didn’t tell me much, but he was bunking with some angel called Hannah. Claimed he was helping her round up runaway angels after she took over as unofficial leader.”

“Hannah?” Anna frowned. “She’s a pretty minor angel. I never thought she’d ever be anywhere near the top. Wow.”

“Life’s full of surprises,” Dean said. “All Cas told me is that she started feeling bad for her vessel and left so she could return to her husband. I think that’s what made him feel bad. But…that’s not his vessel. Not in my time. It’s his body.”

“That’s impossible,” Anna said immediately. “Angels can’t inhabit a human body without a soul. Not only is there lack of permission but…a soul acts as a filter of sorts. It keeps us separate from the body. That’s why this’ll still be my body even if I take my grace back – because my soul will…be absorbed into my grace, for lack of a better word. I’m not sure if it’ll remain my soul or become angelic essence, but either way this body will be _mine_ , not a vessel. I don’t actually know what happens to angels like me. Heaven didn’t exactly want us going off and doing this.”

“So you don’t know for sure what’ll happen to your soul if you take your grace back?”

“No, and I’m not interested in finding out if I can help it.” Anna bent down to fumble for the water bottle near her feet.

“Guess anything’s possible when you get blown to pieces and Daddy dearest brings you back,” Dean shrugged. Anna, who was taking a swig from the bottle, choked and spluttered on her water, so Dean reached out to thump her on the back.

“G-God?” she wheezed. “He’s – Cas –”

“Yep,” Dean said. “I’ve met him. He’s kind of a dick and he got into my porn stash.” Pain lanced through Dean’s head, making his eyes throb, and he couldn’t stop the small groan from slipping out. “But he’s a master with pancakes,” he hastened to add. The pain bled away after that.

Anna didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip, instead just staring at Dean rather creepily. If he hadn’t known she used to be an angel, he’d definitely have known now because only an angel could stare at someone like that.

For the next eight hours, Dean kept himself occupied by running through dozens of different scenarios that could occur when they finally arrived at the Novaks’ house. What could he say to them? ‘Hi, I’m Dean, I’m in love with the heavenly douchebag possessing your husband-slash-father and I’m here to make sure you don’t croak. Got any beer?’ So when they finally pulled up outside the Novaks’ house, Dean had gone through so many different possible scenarios that he found himself unable to even reach down and take his seatbelt off. Finally, Anna took pity on him.

“I’ll go in,” she said. “I’ll make up some story and have a quick chat with them, just to see if they’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Dean said gratefully. Anna smiled, then slipped gracefully out of the car and headed up to the Novaks’ front door, Dean watching her go. But Dean knew that something was terribly wrong the minute Anna knocked on the door and it swung open by itself. “Shit.”

He struggled out of the car and sprinted up the path to the front door as Anna disappeared inside. Skidding to a halt just in front of the door, Dean held his breath and listened. Nothing. That wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. Could Amelia and Claire have just gone out and forgotten to lock their door? Or maybe it was something that had nothing to do with angels and demons? Dean still pulled Ruby’s knife out of his pocket and held it out in front of him, then nudged the door wider open.

“Anna?” he hissed into the oppressive silence, but he got no response. Something was very wrong. His gut was telling him so, and his gut was hardly ever wrong in situations like this. Treading softly so that he caused as little sound on the floorboards as possible, Dean crept into the house and turned the corner into the living room. His stomach dropped at the scene before him.

“Dean!” Anna cried, kicking a heavyset man away from her and diving for her angel blade nearby. Running on pure instinct, Dean stabbed the man in the back of the neck, and the way he lit up orange and convulsed confirmed Dean’s worst fears. The people that Anna was fighting off, that were looming over a bleeding Amelia who was trying to protect a cowering Claire? Demons. But why the hell were they here?

“Get away from them!” Dean shouted, diving at the demons leering at Amelia and Claire. Claire let out a scream when Dean grabbed a blonde woman around the neck and drove his knife through her skull, before turning on the other demon.

“Winchester,” the scrawny man snarled. “Where’s your shadow?”

“Sorry,” Dean said with a deadly smile. “Sam can’t come to the phone right now.” He reared back to stab the demon, but the man was too fast and dodged, then shoved Dean into the wall with a burst of power. Dean doubled over, groaning. “Son of a bitch.”

He expected to be grabbed and tossed around at any moment, but when he finally looked up, he saw that Anna had jumped in and was circling the demon, eyes scanning for a gap for her to stick her angel blade in. While the demon was distracted, Dean rolled over and speed-crawled to Amelia and Claire.

“Hey, you’ll be alright,” he said soothingly. But as his fingers scrabbled for the wound on Amelia’s stomach, he knew that was a lie. Amelia wasn’t going to make it. And from the look on her face, she knew it too. He turned to Claire. “Go hide, okay? Find somewhere to hide and don’t come out until I say so.”

Claire looked at Amelia, who nodded. Choking back a sob, the girl pushed herself to her knees and crawled out of the living room, keeping her eyes glued on Anna fighting two demons at once. Dean sent up a quick prayer that she’d be safe, then turned back to a dying Amelia.

“I’m here because of Jimmy,” Dean said to Amelia, trying to hold her stomach together despite the futility of this action.

“Jimmy?” Amelia descended into a coughing fit, dribbling blood down her chin. “They – they said – is he –”

“He’s possessed,” Dean said bluntly. “By an angel.”

Amelia laughed hysterically, her teeth glistening crimson. “Angels. Right. That’s…what Jimmy –”

“Well, he was telling the truth. Look, we both know you don’t have much time. I swore to Jimmy that I’d look out for you, so we came to check on you. Everything he did? Was for you and Claire. He thought if he said yes, he could keep you safe.”

Well, that was a blatant lie, but what else could Dean say? If anything, at least it would give Amelia that little bit of reassurance before her inevitable death.

“Dean, I could use a bit of help here!” Anna yelled before she was promptly slammed into a wall. Dean went to spring into action, but his jacket sleeve was grabbed by Amelia.

“Claire,” the woman wheezed. “Please – look out –”

“I will,” Dean said, squeezing Amelia’s hand. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Amelia because she let go of his jacket. Dean looked at her one last time, knowing instinctively that this would be the last time he’d see Amelia Novak alive, then jumped into the fray to help Anna stay not-dead.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

It only took a few minutes for Dean and Anna to finish off the remaining two demons, and then Dean went to do a quick sweep of the house to make sure that there were no more.

“That’s all,” he said when he returned. “No more demons.”

“Mom?” a small voice said. Dean and Anna whirled to see Claire in the doorway, wide eyes fixed on Amelia, who was crumpled on the ground and barely moving. Dean wasn’t even sure if she was still alive. “Mom!”

“Claire –” Dean started, but Claire bolted over to Amelia and fell next to her, grasping at Amelia’s bloodstained shirt. To Dean’s surprise, Amelia was still alive – though barely – and managed a weak little smile at her daughter before her eyes slid shut. Dean didn’t even bother to check if her chest was still moving because it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference.

“I think they were here because of Cas,” Anna whispered to Dean while Claire burst into loud tears and buried her face in her mom’s shirt. “They were going on about ‘extra incentive’. Maybe they wanted to try and reach Jimmy?”

“The hell would that’ve done?” Dean said, stomach lurching unpleasantly at the reminder that Castiel was still Alastair’s prisoner and most likely being tortured horrifically. “Jimmy wouldn’t know anything.”

Anna wrung her hands. “If they could get Jimmy to reject Cas and force him out…I’ve heard that there’s warding that could imprison an angel in their true form without hurting anyone. That’s the equivalent of your soul being tortured instead of your body, and a demon like Alastair would definitely know stuff like that if he knew how to exorcise Cas back in Kentucky. They probably wanted Amelia and Claire to try and force Jimmy to cooperate, because otherwise he could just hide deep in his vessel and leave Cas to deal with the pain.”

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat at the very memory of his time in Hell, only this time, it wasn’t what he’d done but rather, how unimaginably painful it’d been for his soul to be tortured instead of his body. Trying not to think about what Castiel was going through right now, Dean knelt next to Claire, who was still bawling into her dead mom’s shirt.

“Claire?” he said softly, resting a tentative hand on her back. “Hey.”

Claire just cried harder. Dean shrugged at Anna, then sat back on his ass and crossed his legs, with Anna following suit and running a soothing hand up and down Claire’s back. There was nothing for them to do but just wait for Claire to exhaust her tears, as insensitive as that sounded. Dean lost track of the time spent sitting there, until finally Claire’s sobs died down to hiccups.

“Claire, honey?” Anna murmured. Claire didn’t move. Dean sighed, deciding to just rip the band-aid off there and then.

“They were demons, Claire,” he said. Anna shot him a look that he ignored. “They were here because your father’s possessed by an angel.”

That finally got Claire to look up from her mother’s body. Her bright blue eyes – identical to Castiel’s, only without the ancient, cosmic being behind them – were bloodshot, her face was splotchy, and her bottom lip was quivering.

“What?” she said thickly. “An angel?”

“Yeah. That’s why we were here,” Dean said. “Cas – the angel – he’s…in a bit of a bad place right now. Anna and I wanted to come and see if you and your mom were doing okay.”

Claire sniffled at the mention of her mother. “I don’t believe you,” she spat. “My dad left us. He told me he wasn’t my dad anymore!”

“That was Cas, not Jimmy,” Dean said patiently. “He…doesn’t really know what to do around people. Your dad thought he was protecting you and your mom by letting Cas possess him.”

“Angels don’t exist.” Claire shook her head. “I thought they did. Dad thought they did. But if they did, they wouldn’t have taken him! My mom wouldn’t be – she wouldn’t –” Fresh tears began to stream from Claire’s eyes. It was so… _surreal_ to see this little girl Claire after two years of hardened adult Claire.

“That’s because angels aren’t really that great,” Anna said. “Trust me. They’re pretty dickish.”

“Yeah? And how would you know?” Claire snapped. In response, Anna reached down her top and pulled out her vial of grace.

“Because I used to be one,” she said. Claire’s mouth dropped as she stared at the grace with wide eyes. “But I gave all that up. I didn’t want to be one of them anymore.”

“But – you could’ve healed her!” Claire’s face scrunched up in rage. “You could’ve saved my mom if you were!”

“No, I couldn’t have.” Anna closed her eyes for a moment, probably to compose herself and stave off the guilt. Yeah, Dean was speaking from experience. “By the time we got here, it was too late to save her. And I don’t have the power to resurrect people because I’m a fallen angel. I’d be cut off from Heaven even if I took my grace back. Trust me, Claire, if there was even the smallest chance I’d have been able to save your mom, I’d have taken my grace back in a heartbeat.”

Claire sniffled and let out a choked sob. “Mom…”

“I get it.” Dean reached out and rubbed Claire on the back. “Demons killing moms? I’ve been where you are. It sucks. It’ll never stop hurting, but it’ll eventually start to get better.” There was a moment of silence that weighed on all of them before Dean said, “You got anyone you can go stay with? Anna and I can make sure you get there safely.”

“My – my grandma,” Claire said, her voice slipping into a slight monotone as the shock of the situation began to set in. “But…won’t the demons find me there? I don’t want to lose her too!”

“You’re right,” Anna said before Dean could say anything. “How about – how about you come with us? We’ll take care of you and train you.”

Claire nodded immediately.

“Anna –”

“Go pack a bag,” Anna said, cutting Dean off. “Anything you want to take. Dean and I’ll wait for you.”

The minute Claire was out of the room, Dean rounded on Anna. “The hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Bringing a kid along? You want another kid to grow up like I did?”

“It was your father’s responsibility to look out for you and treat you like a child,” Anna said calmly. “But Claire doesn’t have any parental figures left to do that. Do you really think Cas is going to leave Jimmy? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you’d be selfless enough to give up Cas so that Jimmy could be free?”

Dean opened his mouth straight away to argue with Anna…but found that he couldn’t. He barely knew Jimmy, but Cas…he loved Cas so damn much, even if Cas was currently douchebag Castiel. As much as he wanted to disagree with Anna, he couldn’t deny that he was a selfish son of a bitch who’d pick Cas over Jimmy any day.

“My point exactly,” Anna said. “And Claire was right when she said that going to stay with her grandmother would just paint a target on her grandmother’s back. You swore you’d look out for Claire? This is the best way to do that, and you know it. If she turned out to be a hunter in the other timeline, chances are she’ll be one in this one too. And can you honestly say that if you left Claire to her own devices, she wouldn’t turn vengeful?”

Dean’s mind flashed to the original Claire, who had turned bitter and angry after being abandoned by both her parents. Ending up in group homes and foster homes had only exacerbated that poisonous rage. Goddammit, why did Anna have to be right?

“Fine,” he relented. “We’ll take Junior. You’re right, this is probably the best way to keep her alive.”

Anna gave him a small, sad smile. “What should we do about Amelia? We can’t just leave her here.”

“Actually, that’s probably the best thing we can do this time,” Dean said. “Our DNA’s gonna be here no matter what, but there’s no way the cops can link us to the weapon that killed Amelia. And they can’t get the demon-killing knife or your angel blade to prove that we killed any of the demons. It fuckin’ sucks, but…”

“Yeah,” Anna murmured.

“But,” Dean started when a thought occurred to him, “couldn’t the demons get her body and – I don’t know – possess it and pretend to be her?”

“Jimmy would see through it,” Anna said, shaking her head. “With Cas in him, he can see demon true forms, and knowing she’s dead will probably just make him retreat even further into his own mind to escape the pain of it. That’ll just mess up Alastair’s plans even more. Besides, the police will probably get here before more demons are sent out to see why these ones aren’t responding.”

Before they could say anything else, Claire returned with a large backpack on her back and a mask of unbreakable stone on her face.

“I’m ready,” she said flatly, resolutely not looking in the direction of her mother’s corpse. Dean and Anna pushed themselves to their feet.

“I’ll call the police,” Anna said. “Dean, you take Claire to the car.”

“C’mon.” Dean held a hand out to Claire, but she just walked straight past him. The dead look in her eyes unsettled him, but there wasn’t really anything he could do to help with grief except give her space.

* * *

The drive back to Sioux Falls was stiflingly quiet, to the point where Dean could almost literally feel the weight of Claire in the atmosphere. She hadn’t said a word since getting in the car, instead staring out the window without seeming to focus on anything.

“Alright, that’s it,” Dean said after an hour of this oppressive silence, as they were passing through some nondescript town of which he’d already forgotten the name. He pulled over outside a small park, startling Anna and Claire out of their trances. “Anna, you go get snacks. Claire and I are gonna take a walk.”

“I don’t want to,” were Claire’s first words since leaving Pontiac.

“Tough luck, angel cake,” Dean said. “Fresh air’ll do you good.”

Seeming to recognise the significance of this moment, Anna quietly slipped out of the Impala and hurried across the road to the gas station with her head down, red hair hanging around her face like a curtain. Dean got out of the driver’s seat and crossed around to the back to open Claire’s door.

“No,” Claire said, crossing her arms.

“We’re staying right here until you come with me,” Dean said. “Even if we have to spend a week camping in this very spot.”

Claire met Dean’s eyes and she stuck her bottom lip out defiantly. Dean easily held her gaze, keeping this staring contest going until Claire finally realised that it was in her best interests to get this over with. Hey, Dean had raised a baby brother for decades; he knew a thing or two about sheer stubbornness.

“Fine,” Claire said sullenly, unbuckling her seatbelt. She followed Dean through the park until they came across a park bench, where they sat down facing the jungle gym. Neither of them said anything for a few long moments.

“Look,” Dean finally said. “I’m not gonna give you that ‘I’m so sorry’ and ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through’ bullshit. I know how pissed that makes me when people do that to me. But…I do know how you’re feeling.”

“How? How the heck can you –” Claire let out a choked sob. “How can you know?”

“My mom was killed by a demon when I was four years old,” Dean said. Claire blinked and stared at him. “He was there to…do something to my little brother. Mom was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Dad…he was never the same after. He should’ve been there for me and Sammy, but he dragged us around from place to place so he could find that demon and get revenge. Didn’t give a fuck about us.” Dean gave a dark laugh. “Well, he did sell his soul to bring me back and ended up in Hell for me, but that’s about it.”

“Hell?” Claire’s eyes bulged. “Like, _Hell_ Hell?”

“Yep,” Dean said. “Don’t worry, that’s the least weird thing you’ll learn. Dad…there was no pleasing him. If he gave an order, you damn well followed it, or you got your ass kicked. He never hit me,” Dean added when Claire opened her mouth. “Apart from that one time when he got way drunker than usual, he never laid a finger on us. It was…just the way he looked at me, y’know? The way his voice went cold, like I wasn’t even his son. And he never, ever complimented me. Took me years to realise how fucked-up that all was and how I deserved better.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Claire said.

“Just a bit of background info,” Dean said. “Because I know what’s going through your mind right now. You want revenge.”

Claire scowled and crossed her arms again.

“Trust me, I’m the king of crappy revenge plots,” Dean said. “Only place that ever got me was in deeper shit. I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be pissed – ‘cause you have every right to be angry at Cas, and your dad, and me, and Anna, and everyone – but revenge fucks you up.”

“Well, you don’t know how I feel, then,” Claire said darkly. “My dad’s still alive but I can’t even talk to him. You know, because he’s – because he’s possessed. Why?” Her voice cracked. “Why did Dad have to – why did he leave me like that? Why was he so devoted to God that he chose an angel over me and – and Mom? God can’t be that good if this is what angels are like…”

“God’s…God,” Dean said. “He works in mysterious ways. And if you ever read the Bible – the actual one, not the shitty watered-down ones – you’d know that angels are warriors, not protectors. That’s what Cas told me when I called him out.”

“He sounds like a dick,” Claire said. “Why do you even like him?’

“It’s…complicated,” Dean said. “I can’t tell you. Literally. I’ll get my ass roasted – even ask Anna. Hell, I can’t even tell my own brother.”

“Then how does Anna know?”

“I slipped up. Very nearly got my ass beat for that – like, you’ve got no idea.” Dean was quiet for a few moments, staring out at the setting sun. “Cas saved me from Hell, you know.”

“ _You_ were in Hell?” Claire’s jaw dropped. “But…how? You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m far from a hero. I’m just doin’ my job. But Sam…he ended up dying and I did the exact same thing my dad did. Except that I broke in thirty years and he didn’t break after a hundred. Time goes faster in Hell,” he added before Claire could ask. “One month up here, ten years down there. So I spent more time down there.”

“And…Cas saved you?” Claire said. “In – in my dad’s body?”

“It had to be your dad,” Dean said. “If he didn’t have a vessel, his true form would’ve nuked me. And he has to go by bloodlines to find a vessel. Angels can’t just possess anyone, or they’ll blow the person to chunks.”

Claire looked like she was going to puke. “Does that mean…he could possess _me_?”

“If you said yes. Demons can force their way into anyone – and I’ve got a charm that’ll stop that from happening to you until you can get a tattoo like us – but angels have to ask for permission. No angel can get inside you if you don’t say yes. And speaking of demons, it’s thanks to Cas that I’m not one of ‘em. Hell…” Dean looked down at the ground. “It strips you of your humanity. Makes you forget who you are. If Cas hadn’t saved me, I’d be one of those demons that Anna and I fought. So…yeah, I know it fucking sucks that Cas has your dad. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t know if you’ll see him again as Jimmy. But I just want you to remember that your dad’s a hero. Every good thing Cas does? He couldn’t do it without Jimmy. And Jimmy did all this to protect you because he loves you.”

Claire didn’t say anything, instead choosing to stare at a small child playing on the slide nearby. Dean nudged her shoulder with his arm.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go. My ass is getting numb and I wanna make it to South Dakota by four a.m.”

Claire giggled weakly, but it was still a laugh, so Dean counted it as a win.

“You swear a lot,” she said as they headed back to the Impala. “I would have been grounded for a month if I said half the things you do.”

“Well, if you’re bunkin’ with me, you can swear as much as you want,” Dean said slyly, nudging her again. Claire laughed again.

“Took you long enough,” Anna commented through a mouthful of chips when they got into the Impala. Dean shrugged, starting the car up.

“We had a good talk.”

“I’m still angry,” Claire said, her jaw setting. “I haven’t ever been this – this _mad_.”

“And that’s okay,” Dean said. “I’d be worried if you weren’t angry. But you understand a little more, right?”

Claire nodded, resting her forehead on the window.

“I told you I was an angel, right?” Anna said suddenly. “What do you want to know, Claire? I’ll tell you whatever you want, so long as I know.”

That did the trick; Claire perked up enough to strike a conversation with Anna, pestering the fallen angel with question after question about nearly everything.

 _We’ll find you, Cas,_ Dean swore. _Just hold on._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I wanted to go into detail with the siren case but…it’s really not my favourite episode. It’s actually one that I tend to skip, but I’ve got an important scene planned out that happens during it, so…forgive me if I rush it a little.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Bobby said. “A kid? Ya want me to look out for a rugrat?”

“C’mon, Bobby,” Dean hissed, shooting a look at Claire out of the corner of his eye. The blonde was sitting on the couch, swinging her legs as she read one of Bobby’s lore books and looking totally unlike someone who’d just lost their mom except for the sunken, haunted look in her eyes. “She’s got nowhere else to go without painting a target on her back.”

“And how’s that my problem?”

“Because she just lost her mom. You did the same for me and Sammy when Dad was being a dick, and Claire’s gonna have to deal with seeing someone else in her dad’s body. What do you wanna do, throw her out on the street? ‘Cause you know how those revenge stories go. You saw what happened to Dad when he lost someone he loved to a demon.”

Bobby’s face softened as he regarded Claire. Dean hated to hit low like that, but he also knew that it was the only way to reason with Bobby when the old man had made his mind up. “Fine,” Bobby said. “She can have the spare room upstairs if she helps me clean the shit out. And I’ll train her so long as she goes to school and shit like a regular brat.”

“Don’t think that’ll be possible,” Dean said. “I mean, she’s probably gonna be classed as a missing kid. And none of us can legally adopt her, since Sam and I are officially dead and Anna escaped from the nuthouse.”

Bobby swore under his breath. “Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll look into what a drunken bum like me can do. But I ain’t bein’ her school teacher. I barely remember my high school days.”

“Yeah, I’d be surprised if you remembered as far back as the seventeenth century,” Dean quipped. Bobby whacked him around the head, making him yelp. “Hey!”

“Watch ya mouth, Winchester,” Bobby warned, though Dean could detect the hint of a smirk.

 _Ah, I missed Bobby so much,_ he thought.

* * *

“Where the fuck is he?” Dean mumbled, tapping his foot against the ugly motel carpet.

“Who?” Anna said. “You know, from what I’ve heard, I thought you’d be a lot more excited about working a case with strippers.”

“I was the first time around,” Dean said. “But that’s what’s fucking with me. First time around, the siren was a fake fed called Nick Munroe. Got his claws into me while Sam screwed the doctor.”

“But there _is_ no fake fed called Nick Munroe,” Anna said. “What’s changed? It can’t just be me being here. Maybe…” Her brow furrowed. “Maybe it’s you. I mean, what was he targeting last time?”

“He reckoned I needed a brother figure because I was pissed about Sam and Ruby,” Dean said. “Honestly, I don’t think that was all it. But this time –”

“This time, Sam’s not working with Ruby or on the demon blood,” Anna finished. “So we’re working this case blind.”

Dean gave a long, loud groan and flopped back on the motel bed. “Because my life just can’t be that easy, can it? How damn long does it take for someone to get blood samples so we can ice the thing?”

Anna just shrugged.

“Whatever. I’m havin’ a nap. Didn’t even get my four fuckin’ hours last night.”

“I’ll go scout around the strip club again,” Anna said, standing up from the bed that she and Dean were sharing for reasons that were definitely not about his neediness and desire for touch. “See if I can’t find more clues.”

Dean waved her off, his eyes closed, and he heard the door click shut as she left the room. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, before he heard the one voice he wasn’t expecting to hear in a million years.

“Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flew open and he sprang upright. “C-Cas?” he stammered, his heart screeching to a halt. “What – I don’t – but you’re –”

Castiel was standing in front of him, totally unblemished, with no sign that he’d been bunking with Alastair for the past month. He was regarding Dean with that familiar head tilt and squinty-face, and Dean’s heart lurched in his chest at the sight.

“I’m dreaming,” Dean said faintly.

“Does that matter?” Castiel said. He approached Dean and crawled onto the bed, and Dean definitely did not let out a small squeak at the sight of Castiel kneeling between his legs, dark hair mussed and blue eyes bright. “I’m here now.”

“Only in my dream.”

Castiel tilted his head even more. “Then why not let yourself have this?” he said.

Really, how could Dean argue with that logic? Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against Castiel’s, and a delicious shiver rippled through him when those plump, chapped lips moved against his.

“Cas,” he mumbled, reaching out to cup Castiel’s jaw. Castiel gave a soft groan and shifted so that he was straddling Dean’s lap and could push his hands up Dean’s shirt.

“Do you want me?” Castiel said against Dean’s lips. Though he was practically soaring through the clouds, Dean couldn’t help but pause for a moment.

“I – I don’t –” Why was it so difficult to verbalise what he wanted? “Just kiss me?”

Castiel regarded him for a few moments, head to the side. Then he smiled widely, and Dean felt like the fucking champion of all champions because hey, _he’d_ made his angel smile! No one else could do that!

“I like kissing you,” Castiel said, pecking Dean on the lips. Dean whined and tried to chase his mouth, but Castiel just chuckled and pulled away out of reach. “But why don’t you want to sleep with me?”

“I – I do, but…” Dean frowned, trying to think through the sweet haze settling on his mind. “Don’t want our first time to be in a dream. Wanna wait till we save you from Alastair.”

Castiel hummed. “That’s fair enough. You know, that’s what I really admire about you, Dean. You’re so thoughtful. So considerate of other people.”

Normally, Dean would have laughed and deflected the compliment. But now, he preened and basked in the glow. If Castiel thought he was worth something, he was damn well worth something. He could do anything he wanted so long as Castiel believed in him!

“‘M bein’ selfish for once,” he said. “You could kiss me some more. If you want.”

“Dean Winchester, I never don’t want to kiss you.” Castiel cupped his jaw, then brought their mouths together in a tender kiss. This was what Dean was really after. Sex? That was nice and all, but this affection was truly what he wanted deep, deep down. Why else would he be taking every chance he could get to cuddle with Anna? Sam kept looking at him weirdly, but he just didn’t understand. And he couldn’t even hope to understand just how damn much Dean loved this angel in his arms. Neither could Anna, as a matter of fact. No one could fucking understand!

“Your mouth,” Dean groaned, falling back and pulling Castiel down with him. “Your mouth is goddamn heavenly.” He giggled giddily. “Heavenly. See what I did there? ‘Cause you’re an angel!”

“Your jokes are horrendous,” Castiel said, but he still grinned and resumed kissing Dean. Dean’s eyes fluttered, about to close, but he forced himself to keep them open and instead tangled his fingers in Castiel’s dark, messy locks and rested his other hand on Castiel’s ass.  He didn’t want to miss a millisecond of this. This was the most incredibly vivid dream he’d ever had, and he was going to savour every damn moment of it.

Of course, as per Murphy’s Law, that was when the motel room door opened. Castiel leapt off Dean, staring at the door with wide eyes, and his lips were so kiss-swollen that Dean wanted nothing more than to lean in and reclaim them.

“Dean?” Anna stopped dead in her tracks, Sam bumping into her back. “What – Cas? I thought Alastair –?”

“The siren,” Sam said. “Shit. Dean? Please tell me you weren’t kissing him.”

“Why do you care?” Dean snapped, his mood cannonballing in the blink of an eye as the pleasure drained out of him. “Why the hell are you in my dream? Like hell I’d dream of you two.”

“Dean, you’re not dreaming,” Anna said, moving aside to let Sam into the room. “That’s not Cas. That’s the siren.”

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard,” Dean scoffed. “How the hell can Cas be a siren?”

“You know what it is?” Castiel said. “They’re jealous, Dean. Sam’s jealous that you’ve got other people in his life and it’s no longer just about him. And Anna’s just mad because you want me over her.”

“Dean, you can’t possibly believe that,” Sam said impatiently, crossing his arms.

“There’s no point, Sam,” Anna said. “The siren’s got him. We have to kill it.”

Terror flooded Dean’s system. “You can’t kill Cas!” he shouted, scrambling to position himself in front of Castiel. “You can’t! For once in my goddamn life, I’m actually bein’ selfish! And you’re just gonna take that away from me!”

In response, Anna pulled out a bronze dagger that was glistening with some substance.

“Dean,” Castiel said, and was that fear in his voice? “Please don’t let them kill me. I can’t lose you again. If you protect me, we can be together forever. No more being torn apart. No more leaving you. No more choosing others over you.”

That was the best goddamn offer he’d gotten in his entire life. Dean turned to kiss Castiel on the lips before stretching to reach under his pillow and pull out a knife. He jumped to his feet, tracking both Sam and Anna like a hawk so they couldn’t get to his Castiel. “Don’t you touch a hair on his head,” he growled.

Sam and Anna exchanged looks.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” was all Sam said before diving at him. Dean dodged nimbly, then swung around and tried to jam his knife through Sam’s throat. But Sam was too fast, and he tackled Dean to the ground and pinned his knife hand above his head. “Go, Anna!”

“Dean!” Castiel cried, ducking around Anna to run to the room door.

“No! CAS!” Dean bellowed. But it was too late; Anna had thrown the bronze knife, and it soared through the air in a blur and sank into Castiel’s back. Choking and gurgling, he fell to his knees, then pitched forward and landed on his face, unmoving. Almost as though someone had been blowing smoke into Dean’s brain, the haze dissipated and he blinked rapidly.

“Dean?” Sam said carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Dean groaned and reached up to massage his forehead with his free hand. “My head fuckin’ kills. And your sasquatch weight isn’t helping.”

“Oh! Sorry.” Sam slid off so that Dean could sit up. When Dean’s eyes landed on the siren’s corpse, he swallowed heavily and had to look away before he heaved all over the carpet.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Anna said, kneeling down in front of Dean. “But that wasn’t Cas. And none of what he said was true.”

“I know,” Dean mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the corpse.

“But why would you think that?” Sam said, helping Dean to his feet. “Of course I’m not jealous that you’ve got other people in your life! I’m _happy_ for you!”

There was no possible way that Dean could explain that his fears originated from nine years into the future of a completely different timeline, so he just shook his head and pulled away from Sam.

“You love him,” Sam said suddenly. Dean stumbled on his way to the room door.

“What?” he spluttered. Sam just clicked his fingers and pointed, ignoring the looks Anna was trying to shoot him.

“You love Cas!” Sam said. “Why else would the siren take his shape specifically? And you have to be dreaming about him, otherwise you wouldn’t have been fooled just now!”

“Sam, I suggest you shut your face right now,” Dean growled. But Sam was on a fucking roll.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Dean? Was the siren telling the truth? Did you think I’d get _jealous_?”

“Sam, for the love of god –”

“Sam –” Anna tried, but Sam was persistent as fuck.

“I’m happy for you! I mean, I don’t get why it would be Cas, since he’s…kind of a dick –”

“Well, you don’t fucking know him, do you?” Everything that Dean had been trying to push down now exploded out of him like he was a hydrogen bomb. “You don’t know jack shit about Cas! Yeah, I lo – need him! Because we’ve been through so damn much together!”

“Dean –”

Dean turned away from Sam so that his traitorous eyes didn’t betray him and start leaking. “You don’t know anything,” he said, voice quavering. “I just – we’ve been through too much together for me not to – to feel that way about him. I don’t even know how to –” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself so that he didn’t _totally_ lose it.

“Is it – is it Hell?” Sam said, his voice suddenly surprisingly gentle. “Your memories of Cas pulling you out of Hell? I know that’s something that’d create a bond between two people. And maybe he does love you back but can’t show it because of Heaven. They’d punish him real bad if he disobeyed, right, Anna? I mean, they want to _kill_ you for falling.”

“I _can’t_ tell you, Sam,” Dean mumbled, turning back around in time to see Anna shrug helplessly. “I just _can’t_.”

He stiffened when warm arms wrapped around him, and he had to fight down the urge to punch the shit out of the person. It was just Sam. Sam wasn’t going to hurt him. Annoy him to death, maybe, but not hurt him.

“I get it,” Sam said, squeezing Dean tightly. “I get that you can’t talk about – what happened down there. But just so you know, I don’t give a damn whether you love Cas or not. Just so long as he makes you happy and he’s not going to hurt you.” He pulled back and gave Dean an odd little smile. “I had that once. You know…with Jess. I just…figure it’s your turn to have that and be selfish for once.”

“Thanks…?” Dean said. Sam clapped him on the back.

“We’ll find Cas,” Sam said. “We’ll find someone powerful enough to help us against Alastair. Look, Anna and I’ll pack the room up so we can leave, and we’ll handle the siren’s body. You go wait for us in the car.”

Dean recognised an olive branch when he saw one. With a shaky grin, he nodded at Sam and said, “Thanks, Sammy,” before turning and leaving the room. His smile slipped off his face like hot butter the moment he’d left Sam and Anna behind.

* * *

Things finally reached breaking point when they reached Bobby’s later that night. While everyone else snored away, Dean deftly manoeuvred his way past the sleeping forms of Sam and Anna on the living room floor so that he could make it outside.

Something Sam had said earlier in Iowa had stuck with him: “someone powerful enough to help against Alastair”. It had been with a hot rush that Dean had realised that he _did_ know someone that powerful. Someone he hadn’t spoken to in years since their death, admittedly, but nevertheless, someone powerful enough. And hey, if this person decided to pick on him, he was honestly out of any fucks to give.

Once outside and a decent distance away from the house, Dean looked all around him to make sure that no one had followed him. Then he took a deep breath and whispered, “Gabriel?” into the chilly night air.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

There was no response. Of course there fucking wasn’t. Since when could Gabriel ever be relied on to actually help?

“I know who you really are, Gabriel!” Dean shouted at the sky. “And look, you got me beggin’! You happy? This makin’ you feel all warm and tingly inside?”

“Not quite yet, Deano,” said a voice that Dean hadn’t heard in years and would’ve been quite happy not hearing for many more. “Bit more with the begging, maybe even fall to your knees and add in a touch of worship…”

“I’m not in the fuckin’ mood for your shit,” Dean growled, whirling around. And lo and behold, there was Gabriel the archangel in all his douchey finery, down to the sucker in his mouth. Gabriel’s golden eyes widened upon getting a good look at Dean. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered. “I showed up for the laughs and ‘cause I wanted to know how you knew who I was. I wasn’t expecting _that_.”

Panic welled in Dean. “You know I’m from – what’s up with me?” he demanded.

“Well, if you don’t keep your voice down, I’m sure the whole daddamn state’ll know,” Gabriel said. “Man, Daddy dearest didn’t do such a swell job on the disguise if we archangels can see right through you.”

Before Dean could do anything, Gabriel stepped forward and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean, not expecting Gabriel to do anything other than his annoying finger-snapping, yelped when a burst of red-hot pain shot through his body.

“What the fuck did you do?” he growled at Gabriel.

“Calm your jets, Deanie,” Gabriel said, sucking on his lollipop with an obscene sound. “I just installed some new software so my brothers don’t see. Least I can do for you if you managed to get _Dad’s_ attention.” His eyes crossed for a moment. “And Auntie Darkness? Her stench is all over you. What the heck have _you_ been up to, man? Hey, do they have hoverboards in 2015? I’m gonna feel very cheated if they don’t.”

“Not that I’d want to tell you,” Dean said, “but I can’t say anything. Your dad’ll fry me. I’m already in enough shit for telling Anna.”

“Anna?” Gabriel said. “The baby sister everyone’s been spamming my angel radio about? Man, you _have_ been busy. So, oh great future one, what do you need of the oh so dashing Gabriel, who’s currently pretending that he’s _not Gabriel_?”

“It’s Cas.” Dean’s voice nearly cracked. “Castiel. I – we were fighting Alastair a month ago.”

“Alastair?” Gabriel whistled. “Don’t envy ya. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of his razor.”

“He’s got Cas, alright? And – fuck, I’m literally _begging_ for your help here. I’ve been tryin’ to find him for a month.”

Gabriel regarded Dean for a long moment. “Aaaaand what makes you think I’m interested in helping you with your drama?” he said.

“Because I need your help to find Cas. Look, I don’t care if you fuck off for the rest of the Apocalypse. I know how to stop it, so I don’t need you this time. I won’t try and get you to pick between your brothers. Just…please, Gabriel. It’s _Cas_. Your _brother_.”

“Y’know, considering who my older brothers are, playing that card doesn’t exactly help your case,” Gabriel said. “But holy balls, I don’t even need to send you into some shitty romance drama. This is just…perfect.”

“How the fuck can everyone see that I like him?” Dean howled at the sky. “Seriously! I never got these comments back in the other fuckin’ timeline!”

“Or maybe you were oblivious as shit in the other timeline,” Gabriel smirked. “Look, you touched my cold, dead heart. Just ‘cause you asked nicely, I’ll help.”

“You will?” Dean spluttered. “What happened to not helping me with my drama?”

“You summon me for help, _beg_ me, and then question me when I say yes?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely something. Not sure what, but something. Look, Deano, Cas is my baby bro. Just ‘cause I got beef with Mike and Luci and Raph doesn’t mean that baby Cassie should suffer.”

Dean sagged. “Thank you, Gabriel. Seriously, thank you.”

“Pfft, don’t thank me.” Gabriel waved him off. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Castiel. He always was my favourite little bro. Go get Anna, will ya?”

“Anna?” Dean blinked. “Why?”

Gabriel heaved a long, irritating sigh. “Because she knows about the future, silly. So there’s no point trying to hide myself from her, since you’ll just go running to tell her. Six hands are better than four when it comes to dealing with sons of bitches like Alastair, and I’m not using my full power and painting a giant neon sign above my head for every other angel to see.”

Dean took off running back inside before Gabriel could even finish.

“Anna!” he hissed, shaking her body lump gently. Anna groaned and turned over. “Anna, wake the fuck up!”

“What?” she mumbled groggily. “Why are you waking me up at –” She checked her watch. “Eleven p.m.?”

“I think I found Cas!”

Anna bolted upright. Her red hair flew in every direction, looking more like a bush than an actual head of hair. “Cas?” she hissed. “I – but how?” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t make a deal, did you?”

“No! Just – I’ll show you!” Dean hauled Anna to her feet and tugged her out of the house, ignoring her protests that she wasn’t even wearing a bra and that she needed two minutes to wake up properly. Gabriel raised his eyebrows as they approached.

“Well, well,” he said. “How the mighty have fallen, Hadraniel.”

Anna stiffened until she resembled a stone statue. “You brought me to an _angel_?” she hissed to Dean. “Dean, what are you –”

“Relax, sis.” Gabriel held up his hands. “I’m not exactly in any position to sell you out. Don’t really think my brothers would welcome me back with open arms either.”

It was comical how Anna’s eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. “G- _Gabriel_?” she spluttered. Gabriel gave an exaggerated bow.

“The one and only,” he said. “And before you grill Dean’s ass about telling me, he didn’t. Daddy dearest just didn’t put enough makeup on his soul, but I fixed that up so you don’t have to worry about my dearly beloved older bros realising.”

“So…why am I here?” Anna said. “I mean, not that I don’t want to help save Castiel –”

“Because you know that Deanie’s been hopping timelines, so we don’t have to hide anything,” Gabriel said. “And we need every pair of pretty hands we can get.”

“I’m not pretty,” Dean muttered. The shit-eating grin that Gabriel shot him made him want to punch the archangel’s lights out, but he forced himself to stay calm. He needed Gabriel’s help to find Castiel.

“Trust me, if I wasn’t trying to stay off the radar, I’d go in with guns blazing and screaming every shitty action movie line,” Gabriel said. “But if I use too much power, I might as well go and shoot a huge-ass flare up for my brothers to find me.”

Anna sighed. “I don’t suppose I’ve got time to get actual clothes on?”

“Nope!” Gabriel said cheerfully. “Besides, you look more badass running at Hell’s Picasso with just plaid and sweatpants.”

Anna opened her mouth to say something but, before she could, Gabriel clicked his fingers and their surroundings instantly morphed. Dean blinked and stared around as his brain scrambled to catch up with his body.

“I had a little look around while you were getting Anna,” Gabriel said and pointed at the abandoned warehouse in front of them. “Found ‘em here in the middle of Bumfuck, Ohio.”

“It’s always Ohio,” Dean grumbled, still blinking rapidly. “So…how’re we doing this?”

“You go in first,” Gabriel said, pointing at him. “Distract Alastair. Your meat’ll probably give him a demon hard-on if he loved torturing you that much.”

“Please,” Dean said, “ _never_ mention ‘Alastair’ and ‘hard-on’ in the same sentence ever again.”

“Anna and I’ll follow and get you and Cassie out of there,” Gabriel continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “And please try not to die. I don’t think Cassie could last another round in Hell trying to lift your ass out.”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out Ruby’s knife, then approached the warehouse and carefully pushed one of the huge doors open. He winced when the metal shrieked against the concrete floor…but thankfully, no demons jumped out to greet him with a knife to the face.

His first impression upon entering the warehouse was that Gabriel had the wrong place. Where the hell was everybody? It was dark and rusty and altogether depressing, so it was the perfect hideout for demonic sons of bitches…but there was no one there. Dean was just about to yell that this was total bullshit, but the faintest of sounds met his ears and he paused and raised his knife, then whirled around.

“Hello, Dean.” Alastair’s grin sent chills down Dean’s spine. “I’m actually kind of disappointed it took you this long to find me. Who’d you have to whore your soul out to this time?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Dean growled. “Where’s Cas?”

Alastair’s eyes gleamed. “Castiel? I don’t think you’ll much like his new makeover. Or maybe it’ll touch something deep inside you. I’m still so proud of what you accomplished down in Hell.”

Dean swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise. “Show me where Cas is, or I’ll ram this knife down your cakehole.”

“My, my, such bad manners.” Alastair tutted and shook his head. “I thought I disciplined you better than that. If you really want to see Castiel, he’s right through there.” He gestured to a door to Dean’s left. “Go on through, Dean.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Alastair, trying to discern if the demon was fucking with him while also trying to calm down his racing heart. When Alastair just continued to give him that oily smile, Dean squared his shoulders and strode over to the door, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention with the knowledge that Alastair was just behind him and could fuck him up in a millisecond.

He stopped dead in the doorway. Castiel was in the room…but oh god, he looked less like Castiel and more like a slab of bloody meat that someone would find after a ghoul attack. If Castiel hadn’t been an angel, he’d have been dead ten times over by now. Castiel’s bright blue eyes were a stark contrast to his scarlet-splattered face, and they widened upon catching sight of Dean.

“D-Dean?” Castiel rasped. It took every ounce of Dean’s energy not to throw up, though he couldn’t control how his heart was trying to explode out of his chest in sheer anguish.

“Cas?” Thankfully, his voice didn’t break. “Oh my god, Cas.”

“Quite the masterpiece, wouldn’t you say?” Alastair said in Dean’s ear. Dean jumped a foot in the air and backed away, brandishing Ruby’s knife. “Oh, come now, Dean. We both know that that little stick won’t do anything to me.”

Dean’s stomach twisted at the sudden glimmer in Alastair’s eyes. What was going through the demon’s mind?

“What a gift you’ve just given me,” Alastair said, his creepy smile widening. “I can torture you all I want, and you’ll hold out like the stubborn little bitch you are. But…you care about this feathered prick, don’t you?” Alastair crossed over to Castiel. “After all, he’s the one who took you from me. I’ve had quite a lot of fun with him, haven’t I?”

Castiel shot Alastair the most venomous glare Dean had ever seen him give anyone. Despite his nausea and fear, he couldn’t help feeling proud of Castiel on top of everything.

“You won’t speak under torture,” Alastair said. “And Castiel won’t speak under torture, even with all the damn warding I’ve got up so he can’t just disappear into his meat and let the poor human he’s riding take the brunt of it. Trying to get his vessel’s bitch and brat didn’t work. But…” He plunged his hand into a gaping wound on Castiel’s thigh and twisted, and Dean’s entire being shattered when Castiel let out a shriek of pain.

“CAS!” Dean dived at Castiel, only to be stopped in his tracks by Alastair throwing out a hand and freezing him right there.

“You’ll talk if I work on your precious Castiel in front of you, won’t you?” Alastair said with the triumphant air of a man who’d solved the secrets of life. “After all, you’ve spent a month searching for him, so you clearly care about the self-righteous chicken. I’ve been going about this the wrong way entirely. It’s not physical pain that makes you crack, Dean.” Alastair slowly licked Castiel’s blood off his fingers, eyes boring straight into Dean’s. “It’s psychological pain. I should have remembered our little dates in Hell.”

Before Dean could say anything – threaten Alastair, plead for Castiel’s life, anything – Alastair suddenly darted to the side, just in time to avoid catching an angel blade to the heart.

“Well, isn’t this a treat?” Alastair grinned, circling around Gabriel back to Castiel. Castiel’s eyes bulged when they landed on Gabriel. “Gabriel. Heaven’s little runaway. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Well,” Gabriel said with a grin of his own. “I’m not an autograph kinda guy, but I could make an exception for you. I’ll sign your heart, just to make it extra special.”

If Gabriel had been using his full power, the battle probably would’ve been over in two seconds flat. Instead, he and Alastair engaged in almost a game of cat and mouse, with Gabriel trying to land a blow and Alastair pulling off some phenomenal feats to dodge while also attempting to gain control over Gabriel’s weapon.

“Dean!” Anna grabbed Dean by the arm. “We have to get Cas!”

“Right. Yeah.”

The two of them sprinted over to Castiel and started fumbling to undo his bonds. Anna cursed under her breath when her fingers scrabbled uselessly over the knots.

“Hold on,” she said, and let her angel blade fall into her hand from her plaid sleeve. Castiel let out a weak sound and tried to shuffle away, whimpering in pain. “It’s okay, Cas. I’m just going to cut your ropes, I swear.”

It was clear from Castiel’s eyes that he didn’t trust her, but he stilled and kept his eyes fixed on her as she used her blade to slice through the ropes like they were butter. The minute Castiel was free, he tried to swing himself off the table, but his mangled legs gave out from under him and he toppled over. Only Dean and Anna grabbing him in time stopped him from kissing the ground.

“I know, buddy,” Dean said when Castiel cried out in pain as his arms were looped around Dean and Anna’s necks to support him. “I know. But you’ll be out soon.”

“How –” Castiel coughed, splattering his chin and shirt with blood. “How did – Gabriel –”

Dean saw it happen in slow motion, almost like a train wreck. Just as he and Anna reached the door, Alastair snatched up an angel blade from his rack of tools – most likely Castiel’s blade – and lunged.

“NO!” Dean bellowed, but in his current position, he was helpless to prevent the blade from sinking into Castiel’s gut. Castiel gave a choked cry, staring down almost disbelievingly at the blade protruding from his belly, and then bright white light erupted from his eyes and mouth. Dean, frozen in shock, accidentally let go of Castiel.

“Oh, shit,” Gabriel murmured. When the light faded, all Dean could see was Castiel’s body crumpled on the ground, the imprints of his wings burned around him.

“CAS!” Dean cried. This couldn’t be real. Castiel couldn’t be gone. Not like last time.

But he was. He was gone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
>  
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

_Cas’ eyes and mouth glowed –_

Alastair shone orange when Gabriel’s blade slid between his shoulder blades –

_“CAS!”_

“Hey.” Gabriel was uncharacteristically gentle. “We gotta go.”

_Cas’ body was sprawled on the ground like a stringless puppet –_

“I got him.” Anna picked Castiel up bridal style, staggering as she stood back up –

_Wings burned into the grass –_

Crisp fall air hit his face –

_Eyes closed –_

“Dean,” said a male voice –

_Gone –_

“I think he’s having some sort of flashback,” said a higher voice –

_Dead –_

“Hey, snap out of it!”

Something burned his forearm. Dean jumped, snapping fully back to the present and hissing as he rubbed his stinging arm.

“What the fuck?” he said hoarsely.

“You were totally out of it,” Gabriel said. “Had to bring you back somehow.”

“Dean…did Cas – in the other timeline?” Anna said hesitantly, like Dean was made of glass and she was afraid of shattering him. “Is that why you’re here?’

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he fell to his knees next to Castiel’s corpse, which had been put down as tastefully as possible…but taste couldn’t make up for the fact that he was no longer _alive_. Just like last time. But Chuck had sworn that it would be _different_ this time! That Dean could stop Castiel from dying! What sort of sick, twisted joke was this?

“Oh my dad,” Gabriel said. “It’s almost disgusting how much he loves the kid.”

But before Dean could start to properly grieve by screaming and beating the shit out of someone, Castiel’s body jolted. With a huge gasp, the angel’s eyes flew open and he sprang into a sitting position, panting and staring around with wild eyes.

“What – I was – where am I?” Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm, squeezing so hard that the bones nearly popped. “Dean? What – Alastair – he stabbed me –”

Dean was rendered speechless, only able to watch as Castiel looked down at his bloody abdomen and poked and prodded it. The most horrific of the injuries had been magically healed – especially the worst one of them all – but Castiel was still clearly in no state to be flapping off anywhere this time soon.

“Well, looks like Dad’s picked a new fave,” Gabriel quipped, crossing his arms. “Dunno why he didn’t just fix you all up. Maybe he wants Dean to play sexy nurse.”

Dean shot Gabriel a brief, poisonous glare, then immediately turned back to Castiel, as though the injured angel would disappear and be dead for good if Dean looked away for even a second. But that wasn’t the case. Castiel truly wasn’t dead!

“Right, well, Alastair got thoroughly fucked,” Gabriel continued. “And not in the sexy way. Yes, I know, you’re welcome, no need for applause.”

“Just take us back to Bobby’s,” Anna said with a roll of her eyes.

“What am I, a cab?” Gabriel said, but he still snapped his fingers to pull off his familiar surroundings-melting trick and rematerialise them back in the salvage yard.

“Thank you.” Dean looked Gabriel straight in the eye. “Thanks, Gabriel. I know you didn’t wanna stick your neck out and risk bein’ found out.”

For a moment, something flashed behind Gabriel’s eyes. Then he pasted his usual shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, anything for my baby siblings,” he said. “I gotta say, I kinda missed you two. Feel free to call. Maybe I’ll answer. But keep the serious Apocalypse stuff to yourselves, okay?”

He vanished before any of them could answer. Dean let out a shaky little laugh and wrapped his arms around Castiel.

“Never fuckin’ do that again, you capiche?” he said, squeezing tightly. As usual, Castiel didn’t return the hug.

“I wasn’t aware that I could help being kidnapped and killed by one of Hell’s most powerful demons,” he said rather dryly. Dean just laughed into his shoulder.

“C’mon.” Dean finally pulled away and stood up, then helped Castiel to his feet. “You’re stayin’ here while you get better.”

“Dean –”

“Dude, there’s no way you’re zapping back to Heaven lookin’ like that. I dunno why your dad didn’t heal everything, but you gotta at least stay and recover.”

“My father?” Castiel looked up at the night sky, mouth open. “So it was God who brought me back.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Anna said. “I don’t think he’s coming back any time soon.”

Castiel seemed to register Anna’s presence for the first time. He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “You saved me. Why?”

Anna blinked. “Because you were being tortured by Alastair?”

“I tried to capture you and take you to your death. And yet you risked your life against Alastair, knowing full well that he wanted to torture you and that he only took me because he couldn’t have you.”

“What do you want me to say?” Anna shrugged. “You’re still my brother, Cas. And I couldn’t leave you to be tortured by Alastair. I saw what he did to Dean after just a few days.”

“C’mon,” Dean said, trying to guide Castiel inside. “You can stay in the panic room till you get better.”

They tried to be as quiet as possible, but Sam wasn’t the heaviest sleeper and it was inevitable that Castiel’s small grunts of pain would register as an intruder in Sam’s brain. Before any of them could react, Sam had bolted upright and fumbled for the knife under his pillow before his eyes landed on Castiel and he froze. For a moment, a staring contest ensued between Sam and Castiel, Dean, and Anna.

“Cas?” Sam whispered. “Is that really –”

“It’s him.” Dean finally allowed himself to break into a wide grin. “It’s really him, Sammy. We got him back and ganked Alastair.”

Sam’s eyes moved to Anna. “And you couldn’t wake _me_?” he said. “I could’ve helped!”

“Honestly, it’s nothing against you, Sam,” Anna said, crossing over to sit on the couch. “Dean couldn’t sleep, and I…had a nightmare. The angel who offered to help didn’t even give us a chance to wake you, it was that chaotic. We truly would have if we were given the chance. And I would’ve been able to put some actual clothes on.”

 _Thank you, Anna!_ Dean thought. He was going to buy Anna a fucking fruit basket once this was all done. Thankfully, Sam seemed to buy the excuse. Maybe it was Anna’s joke that clinched it.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Sam said to Castiel, who tilted his head but didn’t say anything.

“Surprisingly, we care about you, Cas,” Dean said dryly. Well, Sam probably only cared because Dean cared, but whatever. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get you to the panic room before you drop.”

“I’ll go get you some things to patch him up,” Sam said, jumping to his feet.

“And I’m going to sleep all this off,” Anna said. “I’ve had enough excitement to last me a year.”

Castiel was silent as Dean guided him down to the panic room and directed him to lie on the bed, stripping what was left of the angel’s clothes – which didn’t really even deserve to be called clothes now – and dropping them on the floor. Sam came down with the first-aid supplies a few minutes later, and thankfully seemed to get that he should go back to bed instead of hovering around, because he just smiled and clapped Dean on the shoulder before leaving. It took Dean around half an hour to fix up what he could of Castiel’s patchwork of cuts and wounds, with Castiel not saying anything but making small grunts of pain every now and then.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered after each grunt. Castiel just nodded slightly in acknowledgement each time. Finally, Dean had finished, and he packed up the supplies and then dashed out to the living room to grab a worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt and faded grey sweatpants for Castiel to change into for the time being. At least, until he’d recovered enough to repair his usual suit and trench coat with his grace.

It occurred to Dean, while staring at Castiel in his clothes, that he’d never seen Castiel looking so casual. Even when he’d been wearing different clothes, such as when he was Emmanuel and when he worked at the Gas ‘n’ Sip, there had been an element of formality to them. Maybe it was the new outfit, or maybe it was Castiel’s air itself. Either way, seeing Castiel in the dorkiest, most comfortable clothes without a hint of formality was…wow. It was bizarre. And Dean’s brain definitely appreciated the sight, especially since these were _his_ clothes Castiel was wearing.

“Why do you care about me so much?” Castiel finally said, making Dean blink and snap out of his trance. “It makes no sense. I’ve done nothing but be abrupt and often cold to you. Yet you prayed to me every night – you encouraged me to remain strong and keep fighting – you kept me _sane_ – and you told me that you wanted me to be able to make my own decisions. And you came to save me. You even enlisted Gabriel’s help, and he hasn’t been seen in millennia.”

Dean shrugged. “What can I say?” he said, hoisting himself onto the bed to sit next to Castiel. “I’ve got a soft spot for ya. And I can’t help how I feel.”

He froze, praying desperately that Castiel didn’t catch the subtext of that confession. Thankfully, the angel seemed totally oblivious.

“I think I want to rest,” Castiel said, swinging his legs onto the bed and lying back. Dean’s heart soared.

“So, you’ll stay?” he said. Castiel met his gaze, eyes causing the usual heat to erupt in Dean’s gut.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “It’s the least I can do after you risked your life for mine. I will stay until I’ve healed.”

“Right – well – I’ll just grab you a blanket. Make you comfier.”

While Dean was draping a blanket over Castiel, the angel suddenly frowned and tilted his head so that he could look at the doorway of the panic room. “Why can I sense another presence here?” he said. “I sense you, Sam, Anna, and Bobby. But there’s a fifth person. A child.”

“Oh. Shit. Right.” Dean swallowed, then perched on the edge of the bed. “That’s, uh…that’s Claire. Novak. Jimmy’s daughter.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “What is she doing here? How did you –”

“Demon attack. Alastair sent his minions to snatch her and her mom as leverage. Anna reckons he wanted to use them to make Jimmy force you out, then keep you in this warding of his so he could – well, hurt your true form.”

If angels could change colour, Castiel would definitely be looking rather green around the gills.

“I managed to figure out who you were possessing,” Dean said, the white lie slipping out with ease. “And I remembered how Anna’s parents were killed ‘cause Alastair was tryin’ to find her. So she and I went to see if Amelia and Claire were alright.”

“Amelia was killed.” Castiel’s voice was a murmur. “Otherwise, Claire wouldn’t be here. Or Amelia would be here with her.”

“Yeah.” Dean didn’t see any point in trying to sugar coat it. “We couldn’t save her. But we did get Claire.”

Castiel looked down at his hands, which were clasped across his stomach. “I always hate it when innocent lives are taken. And this one is my fault. Also…” Castiel fell silent for a moment. “Jimmy’s soul has passed on. When I was resurrected, Jimmy was not. So…Claire has lost both of her parents.”

A strange mixture of emotions coursed through Dean: sympathy for Jimmy (the poor guy just could never catch a break), sorrow for Claire, relief that this was just Castiel’s body once again, and shame for even feeling that way in the first place.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Castiel said suddenly and struggled to sit up. “Claire –”

“Will get it,” Dean said firmly, pushing Castiel back down to the bed. “She’ll be pissed, yeah, but she’ll eventually get it. You just gotta give it time. Look, you had to use Jimmy to save all the other people you’ve saved. And besides, he had to consent. Not like you shoved your way in.”

“But my presence will only cause her pain. A child shouldn’t have to go through this pain.”

Dean regarded Castiel for a minute. “Man, those emotions are hittin’ you hard, aren’t they?” he said. Castiel blinked.

“I – I don’t understand all these emotions. I’m feeling so much all at once and –”

Castiel looked so incredibly human in that moment that, before he could stop himself, Dean leaned in and kissed him right on the lips. Oh, this was way better than kissing the siren. The real Castiel’s lips were so much warmer and softer, sending a delicious thrill through Dean’s whole body, and his stubble grazing Dean’s hand when Dean cupped his cheek was a very close second-best feeling. It wasn’t until he felt Castiel stiffen beneath him that awareness flooded back to Dean and he realised exactly what he was doing, making him jerk back from Castiel in utter shock.

_Shit! Shitshitshitshit –_

“Why did you just kiss me?” Castiel frowned, reaching up to touch his lips.

“I – shit.” Dean jumped off the bed and bolted from the room before Castiel could say another word, wrenching the door closed behind him. He paced outside the panic room for a few minutes, tugging at his hair and debating whether he should go back in and confront Castiel, but decided in the end that fuck it, he was going to be a coward like he always was. He was going to go right on back to bed, decompress from the mad night of killing Alastair and saving Castiel, and try to forget that he ever kissed the angel he was madly in love with.

* * *

 

“You’d think that Cas would stop always freaking dying,” sighed a voice that Dean was coming to resent. “He’s been hanging around you lot too much.”

“Oh, because you got off your ass and did something about the entire month he spent being tortured by Alastair?” Dean said scathingly, glowering at Chuck. “Thanks for scaring the shit out of me like that, by the way. Nice of you to send me back and promise I could change things, then let Cas get killed again.”

Chuck shrugged. “Sorry about that. But it was necessary to free Jimmy’s soul. He was always one of those unavoidable deaths – you just put him to rest sooner.”

“Lucky guy,” Dean deadpanned.

“Well, at least you don’t have to feel guilty about Jimmy when you bang Cas,” Chuck said. “Nice kiss there, by the way. The perfect emotional moment after a heart-wrenching rescue mission.”

“Fuck off,” Dean scowled. “Isn’t he your son?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t want him to be happy,” Chuck said, “Besides, it’s such a… _human_ thing to be so prudish about sex. But if you knock him up, I’ll obliterate you.”

“… _Can_ I get him pregnant?”

“No. He doesn’t have the proper equipment. I was joking.”

The silence that fell between them was quite awkward. Dean fidgeted, fumbling for something to say to change the subject so that he didn’t have to think about the fact that he’d just had The Talk with Castiel’s father.

“…How’s the writing?” he finally managed to say. Chuck smirked.

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing about your time-travelling in there. I did promise you that.” Chuck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s time for you to go back. Enjoy Cas, yeah? I deliberately didn’t heal him fully because otherwise, he’d have just flown off.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Dean said. But he couldn’t deny that he was grateful to Chuck for this, though he’d sooner go two rounds with Lucifer than ever actually admit that. The look on Chuck’s face gave Dean the unpleasant, niggling feeling that the deity already knew.

“Keep up the good work, Dean,” Chuck said. “No demon blood. No more Alastair. And…I know you’re feeling like you’re not doing much to change everything. I know you’re feeling a bit hopeless. But you saw how such a small thing like getting Sam off the blood led to a huge change. Your changes _are_ having an effect. It’s just a ripple effect, so you’re not noticing their true impact yet.”

“Just tell me one thing,” Dean said. “Are you gonna let me die? ‘Cause you wouldn’t have brought me back to fix things if you were gonna let me croak.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Chuck said with that infuriating little wise smile. “The last thing I need is for you to get suicidally reckless because you couldn’t die. But I _can_ guarantee you that you won’t ever see the light of Hell again. I’ll personally make sure of it.” He reached over and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll also personally guarantee that I won’t let Castiel die again unless you’re already gone. You’re right: you deserve a bit of a break after all the shit you’ve been through.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you,” he mumbled. Chuck’s smile turned more genuine and less all-knowing.

“Your mother says to say that she’s very proud of you,” he said. “I fill her in from time to time. Now, it’s time to wake up. Good luck from here on out, because you’ll need it.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Dean. Dean. Wake up, Dean.”

Dean groaned and flung an arm over his face, accidentally hitting the back of the couch that he was trying to bury himself in. His other arm tried in vain to wave off the annoyance currently poking at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” he snapped blearily, letting the arm over his face flop over the side of the couch. A girl’s face hovered above his, her blonde hair brushing over his eyes and tickling his nose.

“I’m hungry, Dean,” Claire said. “And there’s no cereal.”

“Course not. It’s Bobby. You tried makin’ toast?”

“The toaster sparked at me. I was worried I’d burn the house down.”

“You couldn’t’ve annoyed someone else?”

“Sorry.” Claire looked away. “I just…don’t really know Sam or Bobby and I didn’t want to bother them. And I felt more comfortable coming to you.”

Something unnameable wriggled its way into Dean’s gut at Claire’s admission. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch. “C’mon, pipsqueak. Crash course in cooking.”

Claire followed Dean into the kitchen and was promptly assigned his personal assistant, fetching pans and utensils and ingredients under Dean’s direction. Soon, the sound and smell of sizzling bacon was permeating the kitchen, with Dean instructing Claire in his method to fry the best, crispiest bacon. It wasn’t until Dean was cooking the scrambled eggs in the bacon grease that he realised that, with Castiel downstairs in the panic room, Claire deserved some sort of explanation about Jimmy.

“Claire?” he said, his voice disrupting the quiet, content atmosphere of the kitchen. Claire jumped slightly.

“Yeah?” She held out a plate so that Dean could pour out the first lot of scrambled eggs.

“I…you gotta know…Cas is here.”

Claire froze before Dean’s eyes. It was almost funny to see such wide eyes on a pre-teen.

“Calm your jets,” Dean said quickly, before Claire could blow up. “Just hear me out, okay?”

A small sound escaped Claire’s mouth. She swallowed heavily, then gave a small nod, and Dean could see the mask clamping down to make her features blank.

“An angel came last night,” Dean said, starting on the second lot of eggs. “And he found Cas, so Anna and I went to save him. But…Cas got stabbed and he – you know –”

“Then how is he here?” Claire said. Her face twisted. “Did you bring –”

“No! No, he’s alive,” Dean said. “He got brought back. No dead bodies. But…look, Claire…I got a visit from God last night in a dream, about your dad.”

If Claire’s eyes had bulged before, they nearly popped out of her head this time. Dean braced himself for a Chuck headache but, to his surprise, his head remained pain-free. Huh. Maybe Chuck got that Claire needed this.

“ _God_?” Claire spluttered.

“Yep. He came to tell me that Jimmy’s in Heaven, so he’s not in there with Cas anymore.”

Claire’s face fell. Something inside Dean twinged when she let out a small sniffle and said, “So…my dad’s…gone?”

“He was always gonna die, Claire.” Dean reached out and clapped the distraught girl on the shoulder. “It fucking sucks, I know. I got to go back to 1973 and I still couldn’t stop my mom making that damn deal that got her killed.”

“Time travel.” Claire gave a watery laugh. “Wow. Now I’ve heard everything.”

Dean smirked, wondering what Claire would say if she knew the truth. “Yeah, we forge our own paths and all that shit, but some things are just literally meant to happen,” he said. “So please don’t hold it against Cas, okay? He’s confused and figuring out everything, from how to change his underwear to how to rebel against his family. I’m not askin’ you to play happy families. I’m just askin’ you to understand, and to see that your dad’s sacrifice does mean something. I mean, I got a visit from _God_ to tell me that your dad’s happy in Heaven with your mom. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

Claire said nothing for several minutes, giving Dean time to finish off the eggs and dish up five plates of bacon and eggs. Finally, when they could hear Sam and Anna waking up in the next room and Claire had taken her pick of the plates of breakfast, she said, “I’ll try and give him a chance.”

Dean grinned at her. “That’s all I’m askin’. But trust me, I do get how much it hurts to lose a parent. Walkin’ out on you, gettin’ possessed, sacrificing themselves…I really get it. Look, I don’t do chick flick moments and talking, but I’ll make an exception if you ever need it.”

“Thanks,” Claire said quietly. “And…thanks for telling me all this and not treating me like a silly little girl.”

“Makes it a bit easier to deal with it when you know?” Dean said. Claire nodded.

“So,” she said, a small smile crossing her lips, “God’s in your head? What next, you start going crazy like Anna did?”

“You shut your face,” Dean growled, jabbing a finger at Claire as Sam and Anna entered the kitchen.

“The hell did I miss?” Sam said, while Claire giggled and disappeared back into the living room with her food.

“Nothing,” Dean said. “Just trying to get Claire to not hate Cas. Eat your breakfast.”

* * *

“This is absolutely disgusting.” Anna kicked the ghoul’s corpse off her and climbed to her feet. “I remember being totally repulsed by ghouls when I was stationed to watch Earth.”

“Well, this’ll keep Adam from croaking,” Dean said, wiping his machete on the blouse of the second ghoul. “Should also keep him outta all this.”

Anna frowned at him. “I think it’s really good of you,” she said. “You know, to keep Adam safe. I know it couldn’t have been easy the first time around to learn that he existed.”

“He’s still our brother,” Dean said uncomfortably. “Just one I don’t wanna see again. He didn’t deserve any of what happened to him last time. Still pisses me off that Dad could go and have another kid and not even bother tryin’ to keep him safe. He went over the top with us and did nothing for Adam. I mean, these ghouls weren’t even near the top of the list of things out for revenge against John Winchester. Least Mom didn’t get knocked up when she slept with _Mister_ Ketch.”

“Who?”

“A freaking asshole with a murder fetish. I won’t bore you with the details but…yeah, Mom thought it’d be more fun to jet off with the guy from an organisation that tortured her youngest son rather than – y’know – actually try and work through her shit with us.”

“That must’ve been shitty for you,” Anna said as they climbed out of the tomb. “I mean, I can probably guess how much it must’ve meant to you to get your mom back.”

“Yeah.” Dean side-eyed Anna. “How’re you holding up, anyway? You’re sitting there playin’ therapist for me, but I don’t think anyone’s asked about you. How are you feeling about your parents now that you know you’re an angel?”

Anna’s brow furrowed. “It’s weird,” she said, opening the Impala passenger door and sliding inside. Dean followed suit on the other side. “I still care about them. I love them, and I was grieving and everything. But…I almost feel like I shouldn’t, if that makes sense? Like now that I know they just gave birth to my body when my soul should’ve been angel grace…”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not your parents,” Dean said. “And no, your soul shouldn’t’ve been angel grace. That’s the whole reason you fell, right?”

“Yeah…”

Anna stared out the window in silence for the duration of the drive back to the Milligans’ house. It was the middle of the day, so luckily Adam was at college and Kate was at work. That made it easy for Dean and Anna to sneak inside and hide hex bags and warding in the most obscure places, to fend off everything from ghosts to angels and demons.

“I’ll come back at some point and make friends with Adam,” Anna said as they sped off out of Windom. “Just to keep an eye on him. Maybe even give him my phone number so he can call if anything happens.”

“What, are you gonna be his guardian angel?” Dean smirked. Anna rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm, lips twitching. “Hey!”

“You might think you’re funny, but you’re really not,” Anna said with a half-smirk of her own.

“Screw you, I’m hilarious,” Dean said sulkily.

* * *

“Dean.”

Dean jumped and nearly smacked Sam’s laptop off the table, where he was looking for cases since Alastair’s death meant no reaper seal being broken and no need for Dean to torture him.

“Dude! Personal space!” he exclaimed.

“My apologies.” Castiel, back in his suit and trench coat get-up, had the grace to look sheepish. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m fully healed.”

“Really?” Dean tried as hard as he could to mask the disappointment in his voice. He’d had the past few days to take advantage of Castiel being stuck here to heal…and he’d spent those days as a nervous wreck after that accidental kiss the night of Castiel’s rescue. Castiel hadn’t made any attempt to bring it up, so Dean had no idea what was going through the angel’s mind. Was he confused? Embarrassed? Angry at Dean for kissing him? Or angry that Dean was refusing to acknowledge it? It was so hard to read this Castiel after spending nine years getting to know the other Cas, whose death Dean had finally started to make peace with. In a sick twist, it was seeing this Castiel die that had kickstarted that healing process. Maybe it was the promise from Chuck that he wouldn’t lose Castiel again.

“Yes. I…wanted to thank you.” Castiel’s mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. Considering how stick-up-the-ass he was at this point in time, Dean was counting that as a freaking miracle. “You risked your life to save me. And your faith in me is…indescribable.”

“Thanks.” Dean shot Castiel a smile only so that he wouldn’t end up revealing just how crushed he was that Castiel was flapping off again.

“And I wanted to reassure you that I won’t say anything about Gabriel and Anna,” Castiel said. “I may not be able to disobey orders and turn a blind eye to Anna again, but I can do so this time.”

“That’s more than I was expecting, to be honest,” Anna said from behind Castiel. When Castiel turned around in surprise, Anna smiled and stepped up to give him a quick hug. “Can I talk to you before you go, Cas?”

Though frowning, Castiel nodded and let Anna draw him aside for a quiet talk. While this was going on, another person entered the room: Claire, munching on a packet of salt and vinegar chips. She froze in the doorway, eyes fixed on Castiel, and Dean’s stomach dropped when he realised that Castiel and Claire had never actually crossed paths while Castiel had been recovering.

“He’s leaving now,” Dean said to Claire. “Don’t worry.”

Claire didn’t give any sign that she’d heard Dean.

“Hey.” Dean stood up and grabbed Claire by the shoulders. “It’s okay to be freaked out, okay? I get that he looks like your dad but isn’t. Just…remember what we talked about, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Claire said faintly, not looking away from Castiel at all.

A few moments later, Anna patted Castiel on the back and left the room. Castiel looked mildly panicked when he returned to Dean, but he also looked like a great load had been taken off him, so Dean really wasn’t sure what to think.

“Hello, Claire,” Castiel said, his face going through a complex series of expressions at the sight of her.

“Hi.” Flat and to the point. Claire’s tone made Castiel look down for a moment.

“I…want to apologise for taking your father away from you,” he said. “And for my part in Jimmy and Amelia’s deaths. I hadn’t considered how it might have affected you.”

Claire just shrugged and walked out of the room.

“Did I say something wrong?” a perplexed Castiel said.

“Nah,” Dean said. “She’s just a kid who lost both her parents and has to see someone walking around in her dad’s body. Just give it time. But she did shrug instead of just ignoring you, so I’d count that as somethin’.”

“Okay.” Castiel paused, as though he was going to say something else – about the kiss? About Alastair? About anything? – but then he just sighed. “Goodbye, Dean.”

He vanished in a flutter of wings, leaving Dean wondering why he suddenly felt so damn alone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Yep, no dying reapers and no torturing Alastair, since he’s stone cold dead. And I’ll be fucked if I do ‘It’s a Terrible Life’ because for some reason, I seem to absolutely loathe it. It just…gets under my skin.
> 
> So if anyone’s curious about the timeline I’m using, I’m going off the one on supernaturalwiki (which is also where I’m getting episode transcripts). I’m not sure how accurate it is, but it gives me a general sense of when things are so I can shift them around as needed.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“You,” Sam said, barrelling into Bobby’s living room, “will never guess what I found.”

“A million dollars?” Anna said.

“A woman who actually thinks you’re the handsome one?” Dean said.

“A pair of hair clippers?” Bobby said.

“How to be actually be cool?” Claire said.

“What – no, one of those!” Sam projected Bitchface #82 around the room. Dean sniggered and high-fived Claire under the table, then promptly wrecked her by asking if she had any fives. Claire handed her five of spades over with a scowl.

“To be fair, you did kind of open yourself up to that one,” Anna said, tapping the keys on Sam’s laptop.

“Whatever.” Sam slammed a stack of books on the table, scattering Dean and Claire’s cards everywhere.

“Dude!” Dean threw his hand down. “I was on a good streak there!”

“Yes, beating a twelve-year-old,” Anna said dryly, but she was peering over the laptop with interest. “Impressive.”

Dean flipped her off.

“‘Mystery Spot’?” Claire read off the first book she grabbed, then flipped it over. “While investigating the Mystery Spot in Broward, Florida, Dean ends up dying a horrible death. But when Sam wakes up the next day –”

“Oh my fucking god,” Dean groaned, staring at the books as though they’d personally offended him. Chuck was having a good fucking laugh right about now. “Seriously?”

“I know!” Sam said. “I stumbled across them totally by accident. I thought they were bullshit at first, but…they check out, Dean. And the last one – ‘No Rest For The Wicked’ – it ends with you going to Hell.”

“Wait, so…these are books about your life?” Claire rifled through the stack of books, eyes wide. “Whoa. Are there – do you think –”

Luckily, Sam seemed to catch on to what she was trying to ask. “No, they only went as far as Dean going to Hell,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “And that was nearly a year ago. There’s nothing about Castiel or your father in them.”

Claire’s shoulders slumped, though Dean couldn’t tell if this was in relief or disappointment. Maybe both.

“This series isn’t that popular,” Sam said. “The publisher put out a few dozen before going bankrupt. The guy in the bookstore said it had ‘more of an underground cult following’.”

“I did not hit her!” Dean said in a horrible accent. “It’s not true!”

Anna burst into a fit of snorting giggles, while Sam turned away to try and hide his own laughter. Only Claire and Bobby didn’t seem to get it, since Claire stared around at the three of them with a frown and Bobby just rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Idjits,” before returning to his lore book.

“Anyway,” Sam said, coughing down the rest of his laughter, “so there’s actually a fanbase. Pretty niche, but still.” He crossed over to where Anna was sitting on the couch, taking his laptop from her.

“Hey!” Anna protested. “My writing muse was working with me!”

“Maybe you can be the next Carver Edlund,” Sam deadpanned, tapping a few keys.

Being the only one who actually knew who Carver Edlund aka Chuck Shurley aka God was, Dean felt that it was his duty to stand up for Anna. “Hey, that’s uncalled for!”

Sam shot him a weird look but continued to type. “There,” he said, turning his laptop so that Dean, Anna, Claire, and Bobby could see. “The fanbase is…interesting.”

“‘The demon storyline is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic’,” Anna read, squinting.

“That guy can fuck off,” Dean said, having forgotten how annoying the _Supernatural_ fanbase could be. “He didn’t live it.”

“What are ‘Sam girls’ and ‘Dean girls’?” Claire said as she scanned the screen. “And…what’s a slash fan?”

“Cover your eyes, you innocent child,” Dean said immediately. Claire shot him a bitchface, which Dean had a niggling suspicion she’d learned from Sam and was perfecting for herself.

“Er…as in…Sam-slash-Dean,” Sam said awkwardly. “Together.”

“There goes my faith in humanity,” Bobby muttered, going back to reading his book.

“Like…a couple?” Claire wrinkled her nose. “Eww! I don’t care if you’re both guys, but you’re brothers! Gross!”

Having Claire’s accidental admission of “I won’t think you’re gross if you’re in love with another guy” was, strangely, validation that Dean didn’t even know he needed, even though she didn’t actually know he wasn’t straight. But that still didn’t make it any less awkward that the angel in a guy’s body he was pining for and hadn’t seen in three months was in her dad. Yeah, best to keep that one to himself for a while.

“We have to find this Carver Edlund,” Anna said. “The only way anyone could possibly know about your lives in such detail is a prophet.”

“A what?” Sam blinked. “What, like –”

“Luke?” Anna said. “Yeah. They’re – what do the angels say? – ‘mouthpieces and conduits for the inspired word’. So if this guy is a prophet, it makes sense that he’d know about your lives in such detail. He’d be getting visions.”

“How d’ya know this?” Bobby said suspiciously.

Anna shrugged. “Angels have the names of prophets seared into their brains. Now that my memories are back, so are the names of the prophets. When one prophet dies, another takes their place, so I know who the current prophet is and who their successors are. Problem is, there’s no prophet by the name of Carver Edlund.”

“Could be a pen name?” Dean said. “I mean, if I wrote – _this_ – I’d wanna keep my identity a secret.”

“Could be,” Anna agreed. “The current prophet should be…” She closed her eyes. “Chuck Shurley. If he dies, the next one is Kevin Tran.”

Dean winced at the mention of Kevin, then tried to school his features.

“Then after him is Donatello Redfield,” Anna continued, her eyes still closed. “Then Luigi Ponzi, Justin Hunt –”

“Pretty male-centric field,” Dean commented. “No lady prophets?”

Anna opened her eyes to shoot him a severe look.

“Well, I ain’t going with you to talk to the publisher,” Dean said. “‘Cause that’s the only way you’re gonna find him if it’s such a small series, right? Sam, you and Anna can go. Anna was gonna be a journalist anyway, right? Just pretend you’re writing an article.”

“Surely it would run a lot more smoothly if you came, Dean,” Anna said with the sweetest passive-aggressive smile Dean had ever seen. He smirked.

“Nah, I don’t deal with fans. I’ll probably punch someone. Look, I’ll even let you drive Baby.”

“Yeah, Anna and I should probably handle this,” Sam said in amusement. “Dean doesn’t do well when he can’t Fed it up and intimidate people.”

Dean’s smirk widened, and he waved cheerily at Anna when she sighed and got up to follow Sam out of the house. Anna shot him the deadliest look on her way out. Well, he was probably in deep shit later, but it was so worth it. No way did he want to have to pretend to be into the goddamn series, especially after all the shit he’d been through since this point in the original timeline.

* * *

“This is bullshit,” Dean grumbled as he approached Chuck’s house with Sam, Anna, and Claire. “Why do I have to be here? And why are we bringing the kid?”

“I’m not a baby,” Claire huffed. “And I didn’t want to come. Bobby’s the one who kicked me out to ‘get some fresh air and experience’.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean reached out and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, the door swung open and Chuck peered out nervously. Damn, the guy was annoying, but Dean had to give him credit: he was a real good actor.

“Are you Chuck Shurley?” Anna said.

“Maybe.” Chuck shifted from foot to foot. “Why?”

“These two guys are Sam and Dean. The Sam and Dean you’ve been writing about.”

Chuck promptly slammed the door in their faces.

 _Really, man?_ Dean complained. _You can’t make it easier for me this time around?_

His head twinged in warning. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing that Chuck was smirking on the other side of the door. How he knew, he wasn’t sure. Call it a gut feeling. With an annoyed sigh, he reached out and rang the doorbell to force Chuck to open the door again.

“Look, uh…I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Chuck said. “Really, I do. It's, uh…it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.”

“We _do_ have a life,” Dean growled, shoving his foot in the doorway to stop Chuck from blocking them. “You’ve been using it for your goddamn books.”

There. Let Chuck deal with Dean using his name in vain right to his face. His head throbbed again, and when he looked Chuck in the eye, he could just see the smirk in them behind the nervous façade.

“I’m a friend of theirs. Anna,” Anna said. “Anna Milton. And this is Claire Novak.”

Chuck stiffened. “I – but – you can’t know that!” he spluttered. “I haven’t even – I only created Anna and Claire a few weeks ago! They haven’t even been published yet!”

“There’s your proof,” Dean said, shoving the door open. “Now let us in.”

The exchange between them and Chuck went about the same as it had last time. Chuck was the perfect oblivious actor, while Dean put on a goddamn good show if he did say so himself. If Chuck didn’t reward him for this, he was going to kick the deity’s ass.

“Well, there’s only one explanation,” Chuck said after swallowing a mouthful of whiskey when he’d been ‘convinced’ that the Winchesters were real. “Obviously I’m a god.”

“You’re not a god,” Sam said. Dean successfully concealed his derisive snort.

“How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through…the physical beatings alone…”

“Thanks,” Dean said flatly.

“I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica.”

Dean’s eye twitched violently.

“All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for…entertainment.”

Okay, so he clearly wasn’t going to make it easier for Dean this time around. Fuck him. Dean could stick to a script if he had to.

“You didn’t create us, Chuck,” he growled. Anna shot him a curious look out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a prophet of God.”

Chuck stared at him for a long moment. Then, to Dean’s annoyance, the fucker actually laughed in his face.

“A prophet! Of God!” he snorted. But then the smile melted off his face. “Oh my – I just –” Chuck dived for a stack of pages. “This, uh, latest book I’m working on? It’s…kind of weird.”

“How?” Sam said.

“It’s very Vonnegut.”

“‘Slaughterhouse-Five’ Vonnegut or ‘Cat’s Cradle’ Vonnegut?” Dean said. Sam and Anna shot him surprised looks. “What? I read!”

“I don’t blame them for being surprised,” said Claire, the little shit that she was. Dean barely refrained from flipping her off.

“It’s, uh, ‘Kilgore Trout’ Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house…confronted by my characters.” Chuck sighed. “I saw this happen. In a dream. Just – just take the manuscript, okay? See what I mean for yourselves. Uh…Dean, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Anna watched Dean with narrowed eyes as he followed Chuck into the next room, away from eavesdropping ears, but her attention was quickly stolen by the manuscript in Sam’s hands.

“You’re a little bitch, you know that?” Dean growled. “Just had to make it harder for me, didn’t you?”

“I would’ve thought you’d appreciate me keeping that exchange the same as last time,” Chuck said, every trace of “Chuck Shurley” gone. “It made it easier for you, didn’t it?”

Dean wished that he could literally shoot daggers out of his eyes. “Look, what the hell do you want? You got ten seconds before I stab you.”

“Rude. I don’t think Mary would appreciate it if I had to smite you out of existence for disrespecting me.”

Dean looked Chuck right in the eye and snorted loudly. “Try me.”

With a sigh, Chuck said, “Lilith’s coming, remember?”

“What?” Dean’s brain screeched to a halt. “Lilith – but why? Sam’s not using the demon blood this time!”

“And Alastair’s dead,” Chuck countered. “Lilith’s the most powerful demon currently in Hell, but Sam’s still immune to her powers. She wants to get a look at Sam for herself, try and figure out what’s going on. She still wants to talk to him and maybe even see if she can get him to exchange his and your lives for her to stand down, so she doesn’t end up as the final seal.” He gave a little shrug. “Some things you can’t change, Dean.”

Dean frowned. “Why the fuck are you interfering now?”

“It’s hardly interfering if I do what I did last time,” Chuck said. “I’m just…telling you before I technically ‘get the vision’ and have to tell Sam and the others, even though I can give myself a vision whenever I want, considering who I am. Nice job saving Claire, by the way. And I figured she needed that closure, so I let you tell her about me.”

“Thanks,” Dean said sarcastically. “And thanks for the heads-up. I’m gonna kill Lilith now, before she breaks the rest of the seals.”

“You can do that, but you won’t stop the Apocalypse,” Chuck warned. “You can kill all the Liliths you want, Dean, but Lucifer _will_ get out of that Cage. That’s as written in stone as Mary making that deal to save John.”

“Then what the fuck is the point of free will?”

“Think of these set events as milestones. How you get there’s entirely up to you, but they _will_ happen. But once you’re past a certain point – which, for you, is Lucifer escaping – there are no more milestones. That’s when you have to find your own way.”

They lapsed into silence. The sound of Sam, Anna, and Claire talking about the manuscript in the next room was the only thing able to be heard.

“I’m still gonna kill Lilith,” Dean said. “Maybe it’ll stop the Apocalypse, maybe it won’t. I don’t care. She’s gettin’ iced.”

Chuck just shrugged. “Well, I can’t stop you. It _is_ your choice.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Dean squared his shoulders and returned to the other room, startling the other three out of their intense discussion. “I’m goin’ for a drive. Feel free to keep nerdin’ out while I’m gone.”

Dean was out of the house before anyone could say anything. It didn’t take long for him to locate the nearest crossroads, draw a Devil’s Trap, and bury a tin of ingredients to summon someone he really didn’t want to talk to but kind of had to.

“Well, this is an unpleasant surprise,” Crowley sighed. He looked down at the ground. “Such a rude greeting. I would have thought you’d have better manners, Winchester.”

“You just can’t trust anyone these days, can you?” Dean said pleasantly.

“The exact sentiment that I’m sure Lilith will hold towards me if – oh, I don’t know – I continue associating with Hell’s most wanted!”

“Speaking of Lilith,” Dean said, “she’s gonna be swinging by to see Sam tonight. Don’t ask me how I know. So, y’know, the Colt would be nice.”

Crowley appraised him for a long, long moment. “Break this infernal thing and we might be able to talk,” he finally said. Though Dean didn’t trust the demon as far as he could throw him, he still reluctantly scraped an opening in the Devil’s Trap. Crowley immediately grabbed him by the arm, and their surroundings warped.

“What the fuck?” Dean wrenched his arm away, looking around the opulent room with its rich, expensive decorations. “Where the fuck did you take me?”

“One of my houses.” Crowley sat down in a plush red armchair. “Forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable discussing this in the open for anybody to hear, especially in light of what I said two moments ago about Lilith. Please, have a seat.”

Dean sat down in another armchair, his whole body as stiff as a rod.

“Now.” Crowley snapped his fingers to summon a bottle of Glencraig and a fancy glass, and he poured himself a large drink. “Let’s talk.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
>  
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“First things first,” Crowley said, “what do you know of Lilith’s…role, shall we say?”

Dean took a few moments to gather his thoughts. He needed to be open enough to win Crowley’s reluctant trust, but not so open as to hand the demon an advantage over him. With his future knowledge, he had to stay one step ahead of Crowley or he’d be eaten alive.

“I know Lilith’s the final seal,” he said. “And I know that Sam was s’posed to kill her with the demon blood powers he’s not using. Heard a few things around, put the pieces together.”

“Hmm.” Crowley took a drink of his whiskey. “Looks like you’re not as dim as I once thought you to be.”

Dean smirked. “And I know that you can get me the Colt. You’re the King of the Crossroads.”

“Well, I’ve certainly considered your offer,” Crowley said. “But I need more information before I make my decision. My biggest query is what advantage do you get from me being king? You wouldn’t be making this offer if you stood to gain nothing from it.”

“Better you than Lucifer,” Dean shrugged. “That’s literally about it. Plus, you can be bargained with. You didn’t ask for my soul, so I’m guessin’ you’re more reasonable to work with than the other dickbag demons. And I know you’re not on Lucifer’s side. Enemy of my enemy is my sort-of ally?”

Crowley snorted, then fell silent to drink some more of his Glencraig. “I may have procured the Colt at some point in time,” he finally said. “And I would be willing to part with it…for a price.”

“Here we go,” Dean muttered.

“You didn’t think I would just hand it over, did you?” Crowley said. “First rule of business, kitten: never do anything for nothing. Always secure yourself the biggest advantage you can get. Your soul is off the table – and I wouldn’t particularly want it – so let’s just say that you owe me a favour, hmm?”

“Deal,” Dean said immediately. He wasn’t going to get a better offer than this, so best to take it while he could. “But it better be something reasonable. I’m not gonna go butchering a bunch of innocent people just ‘cause you need a kick. But if you got any demons or monsters you need out of the way to keep your power, I’m game. One-off time. Oh, and I’m _not_ kissin’ you.”

“Then there’ll be no deal,” Crowley said. “A kiss is binding. I don’t trust your delicious, flannel-wrapped behind to not renege on our deal.”

“And I don’t trust you not to throw somethin’ in there to screw me over later.”

Crowley actually looked offended. “You think I would resort to something so _amateur_? If I want to screw you over, I’ll use what’s actually in the wording. But in this case, I stand to lose as much as you. Maybe more, since my life is infinitely more precious to me than your pitiful one. Hello, betraying the entirety of Hell for a _chance_ that you can prevent the Apocalypse?”

 _Never said I could prevent it,_ Dean thought smugly. Out loud, he sighed, “Fine. But no tongue.”

“Pity,” Crowley said and leaned over. Dean groaned internally but followed suit, planting a quick one on Crowley’s lips, and he grimaced at how the demon tasted like ash and sulfur. This definitely ranked among the worst kisses Dean had ever had in his life. “Pleasure doing business with you, darling.”

While Dean was wiping the taste of demon out of his mouth, Crowley snapped his fingers and a familiar gun appeared in his lap – beautifully intact, not in mangled pieces in the aftermath of Dagon destroying it after their attempt to kill her. Dean had to use every last scrap of willpower to not reach out like a baby reaching for candy, and Crowley handed the Colt over after one last quick examination. Dean clicked the safety off, testing it, and then back on.

“That was pleasantly refreshing,” Crowley said. “I would have hated if you had tried to kill me. Really would have hurt my feelings.” He snapped his fingers again to summon the box of bullets, then handed them over to Dean.

“Wouldn’t be worth a bullet,” Dean said. Crowley just smiled sweetly.

“Let’s get you back to your precious hunk of fumes, shall we? I’d hate for the demons to gossip. You’re rather pretty, but you’re not my type.”

“Wish I could say you looked half as good,” Dean shot back, but he still let Crowley grab his arm and transport him back to the crossroads.

* * *

“I have returned!” Dean announced when he entered Chuck’s living room. He got three unimpressed looks in response.

“Are we supposed to care?” Claire said. Dean pointed at her.

“I’d slap you if you weren’t so young. Respect your elders, whippersnapper.” Before Claire could jump on that and make another smartass remark, Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the Colt.

“The Colt!” Sam snatched the gun, examining it all over with wide eyes. “What – how –”

“Been workin’ on tracking it for months,” Dean said. “Wasn’t easy, but I finally found someone who knew where it was.”

“Who?”

“Crowley. King of the Crossroads. No, I didn’t trade my damn soul for it!” Dean added before Sam could protest in horror. “Besides, he didn’t even want my soul even if I’d offered. I just swapped a favour. He doesn’t want Lucifer to get out of the box ‘cause then he can’t be King of Hell, so I just agreed to be his merc one time in the future.”

“Yeah, and you don’t think he’s not gonna screw you over?” Sam said.

“Look, I heard about him in Hell,” Dean said. “He’s a coward. Giving me the Colt basically signed his death warrant if Lilith or any other demons find out. So we can worry about him loopholing his way around the agreement later.”

“Dean –”

“Anna, your angel blade won’t kill a demon that powerful, will it?” Dean interrupted Sam. Anna shook her head. “But the Colt will kill any demon. We need all the help we can get.”

“It should kill angels as well,” Anna said, eyeing the gun with clear wariness. “Anything below an archangel.”

“Guys.” Chuck stumbled into the room, rubbing his eyes and holding a small stack of pages. “I’m running on ten gallons of caffeine and issues, but I got it done.”

“You wrote another chapter?” Dean said. Wait, didn’t Chuck get his vision a day later in the last timeline? Maybe he was just fucking around with the time specifics for the hell of it.

“This was all so much easier before you were real,” Chuck muttered.

“We can take it,” Anna said. “We’re not children. Well…” She looked down at Claire. “Most of us.”

Claire scowled and crossed her arms.

“It’s Lilith,” Chuck said. “She’s coming for Sam.”

“When?” Sam said, while Anna made a small noise and Claire’s eyes bulged. “When’s she coming?”

“Tonight. In a few hours.” Chuck slipped on a pair of reading glasses and rifled through his pages. “Uh, let’s see… ‘Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion’.”

Dean gagged loudly. “Seriously? ‘Fiery demonic passion’?” he said, rolling his eyes at Anna, who hurriedly concealed her laughter as a cough.

“It’s just a first draft,” Chuck said rather defensively.

“Isn’t Lilith a child?” Sam looked like he was going to be sick. “I wouldn’t sleep with a kid!”

“But you’d sleep with a demon?” Dean said. Sam shot him a bitchface.

“Like you wouldn’t sleep with an angel,” Anna said pointedly. Sam smirked, while Dean cleared his throat and looked away with a scowl. Poor Claire looked like they were speaking in Greek.

“No, Lilith’s not a little girl anymore,” Chuck said. “She’s, uh, a ‘comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana’.”

“So…how do we kill her?” Claire said. “The Colt?”

“We?” Dean said. “No, you’re not setting foot near Lilith.”

“Why not? I need training, don’t I?”

“Not with Lilith,” Anna said gently. “Monsters are one thing, but…not Lilith. She’s – well, the most powerful demon in Hell. About equal to the Princes of Hell.”

“Princes?” Sam said.

“Dagon, Ramiel, Asmodeus, Azazel,” Dean rattled off automatically. “Yellow-eyed demons created by Lucifer himself. Azazel’s the one who gave you your vitamins and minerals and fucked our lives up in the first place.”

“How do you –”

“You killed Azazel with the Colt, right?” Anna said. “If the Colt worked on a prince, it’ll work on Lilith. The princes…” She trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “They used to be angels who were exiled from Heaven for being staunch Lucifer supporters. Lucifer stripped them of their grace and tortured them in Hell as an experiment. They turned out…different from other demons, and more powerful because they used to be Grigori – a high rank of angel.”

“Well, we’ve all learned something new here today,” Dean said. “We got the Colt, so we kill Lilith now before shit hits the fan even more. What?” he said when Sam frowned at him.

“Just…I would’ve thought that you’d be the one trying to stay away from Lilith,” Sam said slowly. “And I’d be the one trying to go after her.”

“You’d be right if –” Dean pointed at the Colt in Sam’s hands, “– we didn’t have that. Look, where does it say Lilith finds us?”

“Uh…” Chuck turned a page. “The Red Motel. But there’s nowhere like that around here.”

“We’ll find it.”

“If all else fails, we can just use Chuck as protection,” Anna chimed in. “Prophets are tied to an archangel, who protects them and smites any potential threat. And between an archangel and a demon, I’d put my faith in an archangel being the quicker draw. They’re like… _the_ weapon of Heaven – Michael, Raphael…Gabriel…and Lucifer, before he was thrown out. If an archangel’s after you, you’re dead.”

“Uh – I’d rather not, thanks!” Chuck laughed nervously.

“Tempting,” Dean said, grinning rather evilly at Chuck. “I definitely like that plan.”

“Of course,” Anna continued, just needing to pop his bubble, “the archangel might just vaporise everyone in the room. So that plan might not work.”

Dean glowered in her direction. “Fine,” he said sulkily. “Let’s go find this Red Motel. Claire, you stay here with Chuck.”

“What?” Claire protested. “Why?”

“Because again, you’re not comin’ anywhere near Lilith. So if she shows up anywhere near here, you got an archangel watching over Chuck.”

“Anna just said –”

“I’d rather take my chances with a possible smiting,” Dean said. “But Lilith loves little girls.”

“I’m not little. I’m twelve. And I have my anti-possession charm.”

“Won’t stop her from playing with you.” Dean sighed and looked Claire right in the eye. “Look, I promised Amelia I’d look out for you and keep you safe. Vamps, werewolves, normal demons – no problem, I’d have your back. But Lilith isn’t someone you wanna fuck with. Bringing you to a fight with Lilith would be askin’ for trouble.”

Mentioning Claire’s mom seemed to do the trick, because the girl’s shoulders slumped. “Fine,” she mumbled. “I’ll stay here.”

Dean clapped her on the shoulder. “Good,” he said, then turned to Sam and Anna. “C’mon, you lot.”

They didn’t find a Red Motel, but Dean remembered shacking up in the Toreador Motel, and that sign had fizzled out to read “Red” the first time around. He suggested this idea to Sam and Anna.

“Well, it’s the closest we’ve got,” Sam said. “And I’m pretty sure she’ll find us no matter where we are.”

“That’s a good point,” Anna said. “Let’s go get things ready. You got the Colt?”

Dean nodded and held up the gun.

“Good. And I’ve got my angel blade as a backup plan. It won’t kill her, but it’ll hurt her enough that she probably won’t want to stick around.”

“Oh, Lilith is getting iced,” Dean said. “I don’t care what it takes.”

* * *

“I really hope these hex bags work,” Anna whispered with her ear pressed to the bathroom door. “Or Lilith will smoke us.”

“Hush,” Dean said. “They’ll work. Just gotta wait for Sam to give the signal and then we’ll burst in there.”

As if on cue, a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Sam,” from the next room. Dean stiffened, memories from the other timeline flooding back to him, and when Anna looked at him questioningly, he nodded and tightened his grip on the Colt.

“Lilith,” Sam spat.

“Where’s the knife, Sam?”

“On the nightstand. By the bed.”

There were footsteps, which suddenly stopped. After a moment, Lilith laughed and said, “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” A pause. “Oh, wait. You can’t.”

“I’m not going down that path. You’re not worth it. And I know that Ruby was acting on your orders. Why did you want me to train my powers when they’re one of the only things that can kill you?”

Lilith’s tutting was eerily reminiscent of Alastair’s. Dean had to take a deep breath so that his mind wouldn’t flash back.

“Sorry,” Lilith said. “Confidential. Where’s your all-knowing brother?”

“Out. You really think he’d be happy about this? He’d yell at me for burning the hex bags.”

Lilith laughed at that. “Well, I’m not here just to laugh at how utterly pathetic of a lost cause you’ve turned out to be. I’m offering to stand down. From the seals…the Apocalypse…all of it.”

Anna shot Dean a puzzled look. He waved her off, pressing his ear harder to the bathroom door.

“You expect me to believe that?” Sam scoffed.

“Honestly? No. You were always the smart one. But it's the truth. You can end it, Sam. Right here, right now. I'll stop breaking seals, Lucifer keeps rotting in his cage. All you have to do is agree to my terms. Because as it turns out? I don’t survive this war. Killed off right before the good part starts.”

“Why would you back down now? I’m not following whatever plan you cooked up. And you’re breaking seals everywhere.”

“Are you really complaining that I’m offering to call this whole thing off?”

“No. I just don’t trust you. You’ve got all the advantages and you want to throw all your progress away? I’m not buying it.”

“I want everything to go back to the way it was, before I had angels to deal with twenty-four-seven. The good old days, when it was baby blood all the time.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Your head on a stick. Dean's, too. Call it a consolation prize. So what do you say, Sam? Self-sacrifice is the Winchester way, isn't it?”

“You really think I’m stupid enough to fall for this?” Sam said, while Anna blinked in surprise.

“You didn’t say she wanted your heads!” she hissed. Dean just shrugged.

“I make a deal, I have to follow through,” Lilith snarled. “Those are the rules and you know it. Are you really so arrogant that you would put your life before the lives of six billion innocent people?”

There was silence. Dean shifted, ready to spring into action the minute he needed to.

“Going once,” Lilith said. “Going twice.”

“Fine,” Sam growled.

“Swell. By the way, a contract with me will take more than a kiss. A lot more. Don't worry. The dental hygienist in here? She wants it bad.”

Dean readied himself for Sam’s signal. Next to him, Anna flexed her hand around the hilt of her angel blade and reached up with her other hand to grasp at the grace around her neck. Avoiding that was their priority, but at least Anna taking her grace back could be a Plan C to send Lilith back to Hell and buy them some more time.

The sound of scuffling snapped Dean out of his thoughts. He nodded at Anna, and they jumped to their feet and burst out of the bathroom into the next room, where Lilith had Sam pinned to the bed with Ruby’s knife in her hand. Dean aimed the Colt at her and fired, but the demon was too quick; she sprang off Sam, just dodging the bullet that embedded itself in the wall behind her.

“Oh, Dean,” Lilith chided, holding out a hand. The Colt was wrenched out of Dean’s hand and she caught it and examined it from all angles. “Hmm. Crowley was supposed to give me this hunk of metal a year ago. That slimy snake must have kept it for himself. But I’ll gladly accept it from you.”

Dean just growled in response, angling himself in front of Anna, whose angel blade was in her hand. Lilith laughed, and her eyes rolled back to flash pure white.

“And you’ve brought me the fallen angel as well!” She beamed in delight. “Isn’t this just swell? Well, Dean, you and Anna are about to take a long trip downstairs with me. I bet you just can’t wait, can you?”

Trying not to think about ending up in Hell again, Dean snarled, “Try me, bitch.” She couldn’t win. Chuck had promised that he wasn’t going back to Hell! Then again, could he really trust Chuck to keep his word? The deity was certainly infuriating enough to mess with Dean’s life for fun.

“With pleasure.” Lilith’s eyes, now back to normal, were drawn to Anna when the redhead raised her angel blade. “Do you really think that can kill me, broken little angel?”

“No, but it’ll still feel good,” Anna said, her eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’m sure.” Lilith flung out her hand, and Dean found himself flying through the air with a startled exclamation, Sam and Anna echoing his cry in the background. Lilith grabbed him around the throat and lifted so that his feet were dangling off the ground and he had to gasp to breathe in oxygen.

“Let him go!” Sam said.

“And why should I do that?” Lilith said. “You screwed me over when I wanted to make an honest deal. Then your brother had the audacity to try and kill me. What possible reason could I have for doing what you say? You should have taken my deal, Sam.”

“Not…really…” Dean choked. Lilith smirked.

“Say goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you back downstairs.”

But before Lilith could do anything to hurt Dean, her head whipped around. She dropped Dean and danced out of the way of the angel blade that suddenly tried to cleave her in half, losing her grip on the Colt in the process.

“Another angel?” Lilith giggled. Dean would’ve thought that giggling was utterly childish if it wasn’t Lilith doing it. “I always love tearing an angel’s innards out and feasting on them. Really makes my day.”

“Alastair already tried that.” His face remarkably blank, Castiel stepped around Lilith to stand in front of Dean. Dean tried to deny that his heart leapt and his skin tingled at the sight of Castiel, but he failed miserably. “He was killed. I don’t like your chances.”

“Oooh. Sassy angel.” Lilith grinned. “This is going to be just fun.”

She dived at Castiel, who dodged and swung his blade at her back. He failed to stab her, but his blade still grazed her skin and opened a line of ugly orange light along her back.

“Barely even stings,” Lilith said. “You’ll have to try harder, little chicken.”

Though Lilith and Castiel seemed evenly matched at first, it was clear that Lilith, as a white-eyed demon, had the upper hand over a common angel like Castiel (man, Dean had forgotten he wasn’t a seraph yet). Rather than lie around in a groaning heap, Dean rolled onto his belly and started to crawl for the Colt so that he could end Lilith once and for all. He had to dodge Anna’s legs when she jumped into the fray to help Castiel, and he’d just laid his fingers on the Colt when it was kicked away by Lilith as she smoothly ducked Anna’s angel blade.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled. He changed course and crawled after the gun, only to blink when it came sailing back to him. Looking up, he saw Sam’s eyes fixed on him from the bed, and he grinned and nodded his thanks to his brother before scooping the Colt up and jumping to his feet. This was it. He was going to come up with the best goddamn one-liner before icing Lilith, just so the last thing she saw and heard would be his badassness.

“Eat bullet, bitch!” was what came out of his mouth instead. Lilith whirled around but she was too slow; Dean fired, hitting her straight in the middle of her forehead. She screamed, her body jerking and convulsing and lighting up orange, and then the corpse of her meat suit crumpled to the ground. That energised post-battle silence that Dean was so familiar with fell on the room.

“‘Eat bullet, bitch’?” Sam said incredulously. “Of all the one-liners you could’ve used?”

“Says the guy who sat on his ass and did nothing,” Dean retorted.

“Excuse me, I had to trick Lilith into letting her guard down!”

“Uh huh. Real hard work, Sammy. You’re not the one who nearly got his throat crushed.”

“She didn’t grab you _that_ hard!” Rolling his eyes, Sam turned to Castiel. “Thanks for coming, Cas.”

“When you mentioned Lilith, I had to come,” Castiel said. “I couldn’t ignore the chance to eliminate her.”

“Wait, you prayed to Cas?” Dean said. “Man, I wish I’d thought of that.”

“You were probably too busy getting your throat crushed,” Sam said with a sickly-sweet smile. “Don’t worry, I just sat on my ass and did nothing.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes hard. He noticed that he couldn’t see Anna’s distinctive red hair anywhere, and he looked around the room but saw no trace of her. Where the hell had she gone? When Dean turned back to Castiel, he realised that Anna had probably left the room to hide from the angel. Castiel _had_ said last time that he couldn’t turn a blind eye to her again.

“So, how was shit upstairs?” Dean said. “The higher-ups get down on one knee and thank you for getting Alastair ganked?”

Castiel shot him a strange look. “No. I got no thanks, and my superiors aren’t the type to ‘get down on one knee’.”

Dean struggled to conceal his grin at Castiel’s literalisms and use of air quotes.

“In fact, they were rather unhappy that I had been captured,” Castiel said. “I’m certain I only escaped punishment because Alastair was killed, therefore making my capture worthwhile.”

The thought of Castiel being punished set off red-hot heat bubbling in Dean’s stomach. “That’s bullshit,” he growled. “You’re worthwhile even when you’re not captured. Hell, I prefer it when you’re not some demon’s red-nosed Operation buzzer.”

“I don’t understand that reference. But I appreciate your sentiment.”

“Oh, c’mere.” Against his better judgement after slipping up and kissing the guy, Dean pulled Castiel into a tight hug and squeezed, drinking in the angel’s scent of ozone and petrichor like it was his drug and he was addicted. When he caught sight of Sam smirking over Castiel’s shoulder, Dean lazily flipped him off.

“I’d like to speak to you alone, Dean,” Castiel said when Dean finally pulled back with a manly slap on the back. “It’s very important.”

“Okay, sure,” Sam said before anyone could ask him to leave. “I’ll just grab our-friend-who-totally-isn’t-Anna and wait in the car.”

He left the room, while Dean and Castiel crossed over to the bed and sat down. Dean sat on his hands so that he wouldn’t be consumed by the urge to reach out and rest them on Castiel’s thigh or hand. Why was he having so much trouble around Castiel now? Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen the guy in so long.

“Dude, next time you vanish for three months, leave a note or somethin’,” Dean said. “I was worried about you.”

“I – my apologies.” Castiel shifted. “I didn’t anticipate being in Heaven for that long, and my superiors ordered me not to leave. In fact, I’ll probably be punished for telling you what I’m about to tell you.”

“It can’t be _that_ bad,” Dean scoffed, his mind rapidly sifting through every possible thing that Castiel might want to tell him. At least Dean could reassure himself that it would never be a pregnancy announcement. Wait, why did his mind fly to that?

“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Castiel said. “At least, not until…it’s too late to stop it all. But considering the events that just transpired, I feel that it’s necessary to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Lilith was the sixty-sixth seal. Once sixty-five had been broken, her death was necessary to break the final seal and free Lucifer.”

“That’s it?” Dean’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Dude, I’ve known for months. Why d’you think I went out and found the Colt and let Sammy use himself as bait? Kill her now, she can’t be used as the seal. And yeah, I know that I broke the first one,” he added before Castiel could say anything. “I’m not exactly proud of it.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I hear stuff. I know stuff I probably shouldn’t. What does it matter? I know they’re gonna try and find another way to open the Cage. I just wanted to take out the most powerful demon around while I had the chance.”

“Your logic is sound. But…there’s something else I have to talk to you about.” Castiel looked down at his lap, where he was wringing his hands.

“Well?” Dean said. “Spit it out. I ain’t got all night.”

Castiel swallowed. “Well…between everything you’ve told me and my talk with Anna three months ago…I’m starting to have serious doubts. But – but I’m afraid of falling and leaving my family behind. I don’t know what to do.”

Dean’s heart broke at how Castiel’s voice cracked. “Look,” he said, resting an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, “I don’t wanna push you either way. It’s entirely your choice and I don’t wanna take that from you. But being human isn’t _that_ bad, and you don’t need to be some jumped-up angel to be one of us. Anna’s kicking ass even though she’s human.” He paused. “Shit. You’re not gonna –?”

Castiel’s lips twitched but he shook his head.

“Right. Thanks for not snitchin’. And look at everything Sam and I’ve done. We didn’t have special powers to help us, did we? Look at everything humanity’s done – without any powers to back them up. I’m not tryin’ to push, Cas. ‘S not my place to tell you what to do. But I – I can see another you. One who’s still strong and brave and fuckin’ badass, even without his grace. One who knows that doing the right thing’s one of the hardest things to do, but also one of the most rewarding things. One who…chooses for himself.”

There was silence for at least the next five minutes while Castiel remained unmoving, staring down and no doubt processing everything that Dean had just said. When he stood up abruptly, Dean jumped and nearly fell off the bed.

“I’ll report Lilith’s death to Heaven,” Castiel said. “And I’ll dispose of her vessel’s corpse for you.”

He vanished, taking the body of Lilith’s meat suit with him. Dean sat there for a moment longer before sighing and going to meet Sam and Anna, a seed of hope blossoming in his belly.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Heyo, so there’s some smutty smut here. Finallyyyyyy…
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Throughout the whole drive to collect Claire from Chuck’s and then head back to Bobby’s, Dean could tell that Sam was just itching to interrogate him. The guy was shifting in his seat, shooting surreptitious looks at Dean when he thought his older brother wasn’t looking. Great. Just what he needed. It wasn’t like his life was hard enough already.

When they reached Bobby’s a few hours later, it was well past midnight and Claire had long dozed off against Anna in the backseat. Holding a finger to her lips, Anna quietly unbuckled Claire’s seatbelt and then her own, and Sam hurried to get out of the car so that he could open Anna’s door for her.

“Thanks,” Anna whispered, gathering Claire in her arms. “I’ll take her upstairs. So, whose turn is it to get the couch tonight?”

“Mine,” Sam said. “We’ll be in soon. Dean and I just have a few things to talk about.”

Dean shot Anna a pleading look, though he knew that there was no way to get out of this doom. With a helpless shrug, Anna held Claire tighter and set off for Bobby’s house.

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Lay it on me.”

Sam looked taken aback – maybe that Dean hadn’t tried to shut down the conversation and avoid it religiously – but he recovered after barely a second. “You’ve been acting weird since you got back from Hell,” he said. “And yeah, I know I’ve mentioned this before, but…I know this isn’t just from Hell. Hell is just torture. But you know things, Dean! You knew who to go to for the Colt. You knew that Lilith was the final seal and you were the first – yeah, I overheard that part,” he added before Dean could say anything. “It’s just…it’s like you’ve got knowledge of the future!”

“Sam, I can’t tell you.”

Sam ignored him. “Are you a psychic or something, Dean? Are you getting visions? Because if you are, you don’t have to be worried that I’ll judge you! I literally went through that myself!”

Sure, Dean could’ve taken the convenient excuse, but claiming to be psychic would just open up a whole can of worms that he didn’t even want to touch. “Seriously, Sammy, I can’t tell you.”

Sam glowered. “I thought we agreed to trust each other? I stopped the demon blood for you, Dean. I gave up my best chance of killing Lilith back when I didn’t know you could find the Colt. And now you’re just gonna stand there and tell me to get fucked?”

“I can’t tell you!” Dean whisper-yelled. “I want to, believe me! You think I like having to keep this a secret from my own brother? But if I tell you, I’ll get my ass kicked by someone who could flick me across the galaxy!”

“Didn’t stop you from telling Anna,” Sam said darkly. “Yeah, I see the way you look at each other. She clearly knows what’s up because she always jumps to cover for you. Just because I don’t say anything doesn’t mean I don’t notice. So you’ll tell a stranger over your own brother?”

Well shit, that changed everything. Fuck it. If Chuck got smitey, he got smitey.

“I’m on a mission from God, okay?” Dean said. “Yeah, I didn’t believe it was him at first, but he proved it. He can’t involve his own ass in this Apocalypse bullshit, so he got me to be his errand boy. And he didn’t want me to tell anyone or he’d roast my ass. I got in enough shit for telling Anna but hey, I was fuckin’ weak that night and havin’ a bad time. Didn’t actually mean to.”

Pain lanced through Dean’s head, though he couldn’t tell if it was for telling Sam or for dissing Chuck. Probably both. Either way, Sam’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

“Oh my g –” Sam cut himself off. “ _God_ has a mission for you? Oh my g – Dean, I’m so sorry I kept pushing. If I’d known –”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” Dean said, rubbing his forehead. “And you were right to push. I would’ve done the same to you.”

Sam still looked utterly awestruck. “Dude, is your head okay?” he said when Dean groaned.

“Don’t think Ch – God’s very happy with me,” Dean said. “He gives me headaches when he’s pissed. I’m probably gonna get a divine lecture tonight in my dreams. And before you ask, he’s a bit of a dick but he’s pretty cool. He makes mean pancakes and cat videos.”

“Pancakes and cat videos?” Sam looked like he was going to faint on the spot.

“Yeah. Look, I’ll tell you more when I’m not in danger of being smoked outta existence, okay?” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. “C’mon, I’m beat. Let’s go get this ass-whooping over and done with.”

Sure enough, when he finally fell asleep, Dean was greeted with a very displeased Chuck.

“I do wonder,” Chuck said, clasping his fingers, “if you’ve ever heard of the concept of keeping your mouth shut.”

“Yeah, I have,” Dean snapped. “And you know where that got us? The same future you’re tryin’ to get me to stop. Keepin’ secrets got us in the shit in the first place. And besides, I’ve got free will and I choose to use it. I’m gettin’ kinda sick of you lecturing me every time you invade my dreams.”

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. Absently, Dean wondered if causing the primordial, literal personification of creation a headache was something he could put on his CV under skills.

“At least keep the time travelling a secret until Lucifer rises,” Chuck sighed, which was probably as much of a surrender as Dean was going to get. “Telling everyone will just make things harder for you.”

“How? They’ll constantly ask what comes next? I think I can deal with that.”

“Well, that _is_ a point I was going to make. Look, it’s inevitable that Lucifer’s going to pop the box. So if you tell the others that you’re from the future and you still fail to keep him under lock and key? It’ll only make things worse. At least this way, you can claim that you couldn’t remember everything and that I really threatened to smite your ass if you said you were from the future.”

“Point,” Dean reluctantly agreed. “So, what else were you gonna say?”

“You haven’t stopped to think of how Sam and Cas would react, have you?” Chuck said. “Imagine if Sam was the one who went back and then acted ‘weird’ and said he was from the future. You’d constantly be questioning if he was doing it for you or for his version of you, wouldn’t you?”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Oh, shit. He hadn’t even considered that at all.

“I thought not,” Chuck said rather smugly. “All Sam and Cas will be thinking is if you’re doing it for them or for the other versions of them. Especially with your feelings for Cas. You’ll still cop it after Lucifer’s free, but refer back to my first point about being expected to remember everything.”

Dean glowered at the deity. “Fine,” he mumbled. “You win. So long as you acknowledge my point about secrets fucking us over.”

“Yes, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Chuck said. “Well, this turned out to be less of a lecture and more of a friendly discussion, didn’t it?”

“Fuck off,” Dean said in a cheerful voice dripping with mockery. “I want my dreams back.”

The grin that Chuck sent him unsettled him to his very bones. “Okay. You’re right. Sweet dreams, Dean.”

* * *

_"I’m having doubts,” Castiel gasped, his back arching, his eyes bluer than they’d ever been. “Fears – of falling –”_

_“I’ll catch you,” Dean purred. He leaned down and nuzzled into Castiel’s neck, then bit down gently. Castiel gasped again, hips rutting up against Dean’s._

_“Oh – Dean –”_

_“That’s it, angel. I gotcha.”_

_Castiel let out a high-pitched whine and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, forcing Dean to topple down on top of him so that he could bury his face in the meat between Dean’s shoulder and neck._

_“Dean – DeanDeanDeanDean – I’m going to –”_

_Every muscle in Castiel’s body stiffened as he came in his pants. His head was tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open…Dean hadn’t ever seen a more beautiful sight, and he had to swoop in and kiss Castiel hard._

_“Oh…” Castiel sagged into the cheap motel mattress, hair plastered to his head with sweat. Dean groaned and kept thrusting against Castiel’s hip, feverishly chasing the high – heat was curling in his belly, his muscles were trembling, there was a buzzing in his ears –_

Dean jerked awake. With a groan and a muffled curse, he realised that he was rock hard and rutting against the rugged carpet underneath him while Anna snoozed only inches away and Sam snored on the couch.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Dean mumbled. He was going to absolutely kill Chuck. Even if the deity hadn’t given him that dream, he’d sure known it was coming, if his evil grin during their conversation was any indication. In any case, he might as well go shower and take care of his problem there…even though miserably jerking off couldn’t even compare to rutting against a shadow of Castiel in a dream.

Dean was completely and utterly fucked. And not even in the way he wanted.

* * *

Over the next month, they worked as hard as they could to keep the seals intact, even though Dean knew the inherent futility of this action. But hey, if he wasn’t fighting his ass off, he’d be sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop. At least this way, he felt like he was actually making some sort of difference.

Dean had also taken to praying to Castiel every night, even if it was just a short prayer to ask how he was doing. Unlike last time, Castiel actually dropped in every now and then, and these nights would usually consist of going outside to avoid Anna, so that Castiel didn’t get in trouble, and just talk. For someone who Dean thought to be so rigid, Castiel loved to just sit and talk about whatever he liked, and he often regaled Dean with grand tales of the universe and his journeys through the cosmos. And Dean hung onto every single word, because he was completely and utterly in love and screwed.

“So, how’d you manage to swindle this?” Dean said one fresh May night as they were leaning back against the Impala’s hood. He was out east on a case with Sam and Anna, who’d fucked off to get blinding drunk at a bar nearby to celebrate ganking the ghost, and Dean had considered joining them but ultimately decided not to. He’d grown a hell of a lot since the first time around, and it just wasn’t fun anymore to wake up the next morning with a raging headache and the tangible taste of loneliness in his mouth.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Castiel frowned.

“Comin’ down and talking to me like this. Wouldn’t your superiors throw a fit?”

“I’ve convinced them that this is the best way to watch you and keep you safe for their plans,” Castiel said. “But I can’t say what those plans are.”

“I figured. I probably got some idea anyway.”

Castiel shot him a strange look but didn’t say anything about that. “Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“Can we…talk about something?”

“Sure. Hit me.”

“I don’t want to strike you. I have no desire to hurt you.”

Dean snorted. “Figure of speech, man. What d’you wanna talk about?”

Castiel was silent for at least a minute. “When you rescued me from Alastair five months ago,” he began carefully, “you kissed me.”

Dean nearly bolted off the car at those words. “Y-Yeah. Sorry –”

“I didn’t dislike it. I just…want to know why. Humans generally only kiss each other if they have certain feelings –”

Abort, abort, abort! Castiel couldn’t have those “certain feelings”. He just couldn’t. He hadn’t even defected from Heaven. Okay, time to put the brakes on this before shit really hit the fan.

“Must’ve slipped!” Dean said with a nervous little laugh. “Right? Hey, so what’s the story behind Pluto? Is it really not a planet, or are humans being jackasses and giving it the boot?”

Another silence fell between them as Castiel squinted at him, head tilted curiously. “You’re very odd, even for a human.”

“Thanks. I feel all tingly inside.”

“What’s going on, Dean? I don’t mean that you’re just odd. I mean that there’s something big you’re hiding.”

“Can’t tell you that, Cas,” Dean said, patting Castiel on the shoulder. “Not ‘cause I don’t want to, but because I’ll piss off a higher power and get my ass flung into the next solar system.”

The way Castiel’s eyes bulged and his normally stoic face turned into one of utter shock was absolutely hilarious.

“You okay there, buddy?”

“You’re acting on _God’s_ orders?” Castiel whispered in awe, eyes darting around. “When did my Father contact you? What mission did he give you?”

“After I got outta Hell. Just to ice Lucifer,” Dean said. “Look, don’t be such a fanboy. God’s not gonna get involved. Apart from bringing you back, because that’s the least he can damn well do for me.”

If it was comical to see Castiel’s reaction before, it was soul-crushing to see the way his face fell now. Before Dean could say anything, the sound of rustling filled the air and Castiel was gone. Dean’s shoulders slumped.

“Great,” he mumbled, shuffling back into the motel room. “Even gotta piss the angel off.”

As far as motel rooms went, it wasn’t exactly the worst he’d had. But it seemed to be unable to decide if it wanted to have a retro theme or a psychedelic theme, and the result was an eyewatering mix of black and white with bright colours. If Dean didn’t turn on the light, though, it was bearable.

It took him half an hour or so after he flopped face-first onto one of the beds to finally drift off into a restless doze, unable to fall into a deeper sleep because even a shadow drifting across his face was enough to semi-rouse him. So when the sound of fluttering wings permeated the room, Dean was instantly wide awake and totally still.

After a moment, the mattress in front of him dipped. He didn’t dare to open his eyes, even though he just knew it was Castiel from the faint scent alone, because opening his eyes might spook the angel again and that was something to very much avoid. He was done with scaring Castiel off all the damn time.

His plan was immediately ruined when a hand brushed against his and he accidentally jerked in surprise. Castiel’s hand stilled. Dean prayed that he wasn’t going to pull away and flap off again, and his wish was thankfully granted by Castiel gripping his hand a little firmer. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, allowing him to make out the dim shape of Castiel looming over him. Part of him thought that maybe he should turn on the bedside lamp, but he quickly dismissed it. The air was charged with impending heaviness and this sort of thing went best in darkness.

“I enjoyed that kiss a lot,” Castiel said before Dean could speak. The angel’s low voice was almost unbearably loud in the stiflingly silent room. “It was far more enjoyable than I envisioned pressing mouths together would be. And – and I was so confused. I still am. I’m…feeling things for you that I’ve never felt before, and I – I _want_. For the first time in my existence, I actually _want_ something.”

His heart racing, Dean’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Wanting’s good,” he said hoarsely.

“It’s not. Not when what I want is unattainable.”

And there it was. Castiel’s confession hung between them like it was something solid, something real, like even going near it could destroy them. Frozen, Dean forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What if…it wasn’t so unattainable?” he said quietly. It took a few moments for Castiel to catch on, and when he finally did, he went as rigid as the marble statue that Anna had compared angels to so many months ago. Dean held his breath. Unlike in the other timeline, all this heavy shit had come after years of him and Cas dancing around each other. This? This was so _new_. This Castiel wasn’t the one that Dean had gone through hell and back with. One wrong move and everything could be irreparably shattered, and Dean didn’t think he could handle doing this do-over stuff again.

When Castiel continued to stare at Dean with an open mouth, Dean decided that he needed to take matters into his own hands. Pushing himself upright, he reached out and gently cupped Castiel’s cheeks with his hands, his heart skipping a beat at the warmth and rough stubble under his fingers.

“Yeah?” he breathed. Castiel’s brain seemed to be shutting down, because it took a moment for him to register Dean’s question and nod jerkily. With that permission, Dean leaned in and brushed their lips together. Unlike last time, Castiel wasn’t rooted to the spot in surprise; instead, he came to life underneath Dean’s fingers and clumsily kissed back, a soft sound rumbling in his throat.

This was so, _so_ much better than every kiss in Dean’s dream. And this was ten times better than the first time Dean had kissed him. Dean groaned and closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the warmth and smell of Castiel, and one of his hands slid around to tangle in Castiel’s messy hair. Christ, why had Castiel gotten rid of the sex hair in the future?

“Dean,” Castiel said breathlessly when Dean pulled back for air. Dean opened his eyes, grinning goofily, and fumbled to switch on the bedside lamp so that he could actually see Castiel. The angel’s hair was a hopeless mess, the blue in his eyes had been swallowed up by the black of his pupils, and he was touching his reddened lips with the air of a man who’d discovered Heaven. Dean mentally slapped himself at the hilariously ironic analogy. He was probably the furthest thing from Heaven there was. But right now, he couldn’t find it in himself to freak out about encouraging Castiel to fall with the mud monkeys. Not when he could have _this_.

“C’mon.” Dean tugged at Castiel’s trench coat, trying to pull it off his shoulders. “Too many layers, man.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by that.” But Castiel still allowed Dean to remove his trench coat, suit jacket, dress shirt, and tie for him, and Dean’s mouth watered at the sight of Castiel’s bare chest when he’d finally managed to get Castiel’s last top layer off.

“Whoa.” Of course Dean had seen Castiel shirtless before. It was inevitable in this dangerous line of work. But he’d never been allowed to _look_ like this. And he’d never been allowed to _touch_. Heart hammering, he reached out and ran his fingers down Castiel’s tanned, toned torso, swallowing when Castiel’s muscles spasmed under his hands. “So fuckin’ gorgeous. Wish I could see _you_ , man.”

Castiel went rigid. “You – what?” he rasped. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You don’t think it’s just your vessel I’m into, right? It’s _you_. Wish I could see _you_ without gettin’ my eyes burnt out of their sockets.”

Dean suddenly couldn’t breathe. Castiel had launched himself at Dean, smashing their lips together furiously, and Dean let out a muffled sound of surprise and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck. This proved to be rather problematic when Castiel tried to remove Dean’s T-shirt and couldn’t get it past Dean’s armpits due to how entwined they were.

“Get it off!” Castiel growled against Dean’s mouth. Boiling blood shot down and pooled in Dean’s groin when Castiel, rather than taking the few extra seconds to pull away and remove Dean’s shirt that way, opted to grab it by the collar and yank. The sound of tearing fabric wrenched a groan out of Dean. Oh, shit. He kept forgetting that Castiel wasn’t human, but rather a super strong angel of the Lord. The reminder was confusingly arousing.

“Seriously?” he complained as Castiel swept the tattered remains of his T-shirt off his body. “I liked that shirt.”

“I’ll fix it for you.”

Then they were kissing furiously again. Head swimming, heart about to explode, Dean fell back against the pillows and tugged Castiel down to stretch out over him, licking into Castiel’s mouth and emitting soft groans. Castiel mirrored his sounds, hands skimming down over Dean’s sides and gripping his hips, and the angel let out a gasp and pulled away when their groins made contact and sensation jolted through Dean’s body.

“Oh,” Castiel said breathlessly. He ground down again, inhaling sharply and biting his lip. “Oh – I didn’t – realise –”

“Feels good, right?” Dean chuckled throatily. His whole body was on fire and he honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d just spontaneously combusted underneath Castiel. Was this even happening? Or was he just having an incredibly vivid dream?

“Dean…” Castiel hesitantly thrust again, looking down at their clothed crotches as though he was going to be blown to chunks at any moment.

“Hey.” Dean cupped Castiel’s face. “Don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna do. I forgot you’re new to this.”

After the chaos of the other timeline, he’d completely forgotten that this Castiel was a virgin and hadn’t even kissed anyone before Dean this time around. It was probably too much for the poor guy to process all at once.

“I…” Frustration flickered across Castiel’s face. “I want…”

Dean leaned up and kissed Castiel softly on the lips. “Just let go,” he said. “Don’t think. Don’t worry. Just do.”

Biting his lip again, Castiel began to rut against Dean – slowly at first, but then he gasped and threw himself into it with a feverish enthusiasm that left Dean reeling and panting. He tried to kiss Castiel again, but the myriad of sensations seemed to be overloading Castiel because he could only handle a few moments of kissing before breaking away with a gasp and burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean tangled his fingers in Castiel’s hair, holding his head there gently but firmly, while his other hand slid down Castiel’s hot, bare back to rest just above the waistband of his slacks. Every thrust made Castiel’s back muscles ripple, sending Dean soaring to another plane of existence each time.

He hadn’t felt like this in…shit, ever. No sex he’d ever had could compare to the brilliant heat pooling in his belly; to the way his muscles trembled like jelly, barely holding themselves together; to how Castiel’s hot breath stuttered against his neck as the angel gave up every bit of careful control he’d had for millennia and let himself go on top of Dean. Unable to deal with everything at once, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Castiel tighter against his body, thrusting up as Castiel ground his pelvis down. The sensation of Castiel’s shallow, rapid breathing blowing hot breath constantly across Dean’s skin where the angel’s face was hidden felt almost…out of this world. It was just another layer to the ability of the being that was Castiel to drive Dean absolutely crazy.

Despite Dean’s brain being consumed by feverish lust, he couldn’t help but wish that they’d taken the time to remove their pants; he could feel Castiel’s hard dick against his clothed one, but he wanted to actually _feel_ it. No barriers. Hell, they hadn’t even taken off their shoes. But the thought slipped away before he could grab hold of it.

“Oh god, Cas,” he gasped.

“Dean –” Castiel whined, squeezing Dean’s hips so hard that he was certain to leave bruises, and then his whole body stiffened and spasmed and his hips pumped wildly as he came. Dean inhaled sharply when Castiel’s teeth sank into his skin, certain to leave a blossoming bruise the next morning, and wasn’t that just the best thing ever?

Actually feeling the warmth pooling in Castiel’s pants was it for Dean – he was gone, crying out and yanking on Castiel’s dark hair through his climax, blissful warmth surging through him and turning his muscles to lead. Their panting was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

“Oh, wow,” Dean gasped. He wrapped his quivering arms around Castiel, who’d collapsed on top of him, and held him close. “So…first orgasm. How was that?”

Castiel didn’t answer, still panting into Dean’s neck. After a moment, he freed his face and wriggled down a little so that he could rest his head on Dean’s chest. Dean’s stomach flip-flopped at the sight of Castiel with untameable hair, swollen red lips, no shirt, and blue eyes wide with amazement and shock.

“I’ve – I’ve never felt that – that _good_.” Castiel’s gravelly voice was trembling as much as his body. “I just…lost control.”

Dean laughed and buried his nose in Castiel’s sweaty hair, planting a long kiss. “None of this is bad, y’know. It’s good. You’re makin’ your own choices.” He shifted and grimaced at the sticky sensation in his boxer briefs. “Y’mind cleaning us up? Don’t really wanna go to sleep with jizz in my pants.”

Castiel stared down at their clothed legs in bewilderment, as though only just realising that they’d made a mess of their pants. A second later, the uncomfortable stickiness had vanished, and Dean sighed and melted into the bed. Castiel started tracing random things on Dean’s chest, tucking his head under Dean’s chin.

“Thanks.” Dean kissed Castiel on the head again, marvelling at how easy it had been to just let go and be so affectionate with him. This was all so…surreal. He was probably going to wake up at any moment and find that he’d just had an incredibly vivid wet dream. “Wow. Can’t believe this is real.”

“How so?”

“Just…never thought you’d feel it too. Y’know, bein’ an angel and all.”

“Being an angel doesn’t preclude me from having emotions. I just struggled to properly process them.”

“Right. My bad.” Dean yawned loudly.

“You should sleep,” Castiel said immediately. “I don’t want to keep you awake when you need all the rest you can get.”

“Ah, don’t be all noble,” Dean said with a goofy little grin, raking his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I just need my four hours and I’m all good.”

“Then you should get your four hours, even though I could say a lot about your unhealthy sleep cycle.”

Dean rolled his eyes to high heaven, but he was too damn exhausted after his first ever time sleeping with Castiel (and man, what a trip it was to think _that_ ), so he just said, “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel gave him a faint smile and a quick kiss, as though he’d been doing this lovey-dovey afterglow stuff forever.

When Dean woke the next morning to the sound of Sam and Anna snoring in the next bed, his arms were empty and the other side of the bed was cold. He couldn’t even feel any stinging or any sign that Castiel had given him a hickey while climaxing. But before he could start to work himself up and convince him that it had all been a dream, he caught sight of the shredded remains of his shirt on the floor next to the bed, sans Castiel’s shirt and coats that had been pooled there too. He picked it up, his heart fluttering. So it _had_ been real. Cas really _did_ feel that way too. But man, he hoped Sam and Anna had been too drunk when they got back to notice the state of his shirt.

“Course you’d forget to fix my shirt, you dick,” Dean mumbled. But he couldn’t stop the cheesy grin from spreading across his face. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was genuinely happy. He wasn’t on the path to losing his brother, Anna wasn’t off having an existential crisis, and Castiel had slept with him and shown more enthusiasm about it than he’d thought possible. Life was perfect right now.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Of course Dean should’ve known that he’d jinx himself. One minute he was at a diner with Sam and Anna, shoving a burger into his mouth while Sam picked at a salad and Anna ate fries one by one…and the next? He was seated at a pure white table in a chair lined with pure gold. In front of him was a gigantic platter of burgers and an ice bucket of beer, and around him were dazzling white and gold walls, angel statuettes, and Renaissance-style paintings of angels dominating over their enemies. A huge golden chandelier above him topped off the nightmare.

“Are you fucking serious?” Dean said, kicking back so that he could stand up and kick the chair over for good measure.

“Hello, Dean.” An angel in the body of a fat, balding, middle-aged man stepped into view – and by god, Dean was pissed now because he’d thought he’d never have to see this fuckface again. “My name is Zachariah.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean muttered. “Because I really wanted to spend my morning being touched by an angel.”

“Oh, I’m not just any angel,” Zachariah said. “I’m a seraph and Castiel’s superior.” He gestured beside him at Castiel, who was fidgeting and staring straight down at the ground. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Castiel was nervous about his rebellious thoughts or regretting last night. Great, because that was the last thing he fucking needed. Why was he even here? Lilith and Alastair were dead, so how could the final seal be broken?

“Impressive,” Dean drawled. “You want a participation trophy or something?”

“What I want is to get out of this smelly thing.” Zachariah indicated his vessel. “But we can’t all get what we want, can we?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “What’s goin’ on? And where the hell am I?”

“Call it a green room,” Zachariah said. “We’re closing in on the grand finale here. We want to keep you safe before showtime.” He gestured to the table. “Try a burger. They're your favourite. From that seaside shack in Delaware. You were eleven, I think.”

Dean shot a sharp look at Castiel, who was still staring at the ground. Showtime? What the fuck was going on? For the first time since coming back to the past, Dean was completely and utterly lost.

“No thanks,” he said after another moment. “I mean, I _was_ having a perfectly good dinner elsewhere until some winged dickbag decided to warp me here.”

Zachariah’s smile was full of “don’t fucking disrespect me, you little shit”. “Look,” he said placatingly, clasping his hands, “we just need you focused and relaxed for the big event. All the seals have fallen…except one.”

“And, what, Lilith’s supposed to break it?” Dean said. “I got news for you, buddy: she’s pushin’ up daisies. So good luck with your game plan and all.”

Zachariah narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You _do_ know a lot more than you should, don’t you?” he said. “I don’t believe that you know all of this just from Hell. But unfortunately for me, I don’t have the time to get the answers I want.”

“Tragic. So…the fuck do you need me for?”

“I thought you were the boy who knew everything,” Zachariah said, his eyebrows raised. “I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”

Dean swore under his breath. Man, he wished he could just stab that fucker again, but all he had was the Colt in the waistband of his jeans. Zachariah would have him on the ground before he could even draw it, and then it would be game over.

Almost as though he’d been reading Dean’s mind, Castiel’s head whipped up and he sprang into action. His blade was in his hand and hurtling for Zachariah’s chest in the blink of an eye, but Zachariah was far stronger and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, halting the blade just before it could pierce his shirt.

“And what,” Zachariah hissed, “do you think you’re doing, Castiel?”

Snarling, Castiel tried to wrench his hand free, but Zachariah had the upper hand and began to force Castiel’s arm back, the blade on a trajectory straight to his throat. The sight of _his_ Castiel in danger sent Dean straight into ‘kill the fucker’ mode; he whipped out the Colt and aimed, and Zachariah only realised what was happening a split second too late. Before he could even try and move out of the way, Dean fired. The bullet lodged itself straight in Zachariah’s throat, splattering the white wall behind him with crimson specks, and Dean watched every second of his death with a dark, satisfied smirk on his face.

“Would’ve preferred a blade,” he commented. “More…personal.”

“We have to go, Dean.” Castiel stashed his angel blade away and grabbed Dean’s hand. A delicious thrill shot through Dean.

 _Now’s not the time, jackass!_ Dean scolded himself. “Dude, what’s goin’ on? What’s all this about breaking the final seal?”

“They’ve found a replacement.”

“ _What_?” Dean spluttered. “I knew they’d find another way to open the Cage but – I thought it was s’posed to be the first demon!”

“Any of the ‘first’ demons will suffice.” Castiel looked stressed as all hell, so Dean ran his thumb over the back of the angel’s hand to try and calm him down even a little. “That includes the yellow-eyed demons as well as the white-eyed ones.”

Dean’s stomach lurched horribly. “The Princes –”

“Yes. They’ve found Ramiel and they plan on killing him to break the seal. I didn’t know until one hour ago, and I couldn’t get away to tell you.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. We gotta –” Dean’s surroundings shifted and warped into the near-empty diner, where Sam and Anna had only a fraction of a second to react before Castiel had collected them too and transported all four of them to Bobby’s. Bobby, in the middle of teaching Claire about handling a shotgun, jumped with a loud curse and dropped the gun.

“The hell are ya doin’?” he demanded. “Ya don’t just drop in like that!”

“It’s the final seal,” Dean said frantically. “One of the angels nabbed me to ‘keep me safe’ for their game plan, but Cas and I killed him. They’ve found another demon to be the final seal.”

“I thought that Lilith was the final seal?” Sam said. “She’s the first demon, isn’t she?”

“Yellow-eyed ones count too, apparently,” Dean said. “And they got one of ‘em. Ramiel.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait, why do the angels want to free Lucifer?” he protested. “I thought they were trying to keep him in the Cage!”

“Sam, if you still think angels are good, you need a good slap up the head,” Anna said. She groaned and massaged her forehead. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. Maybe I would’ve heard something on angel radio before now, because they haven’t said anything today.”

“We need to go now,” Castiel said. “Camael and Ramiel are already at St Mary’s Convent to break the final seal.”

“Camael?” Bobby said. “The hell is that?”

“He’s a seraph,” Castiel said.

“Great, another Zachariah dick,” Dean muttered. Before anyone could ask, he said, “So, what’s holdin’ us up?”

“I came to see if Bobby wanted to accompany us,” Castiel said.

“Ya bet your ass I do,” Bobby said.

“Go down to the panic room, Claire,” Dean ordered. “Make sure you got a hex bag on you. Don’t come out till we’re back, you got that?”

It was a mark of how serious the situation was that Claire didn’t argue, or even say a thing about the angel in her father’s body. As soon as she was out of the room, Castiel reached out to touch Sam, Dean, Anna, and Bobby, and they rematerialised in a dark building that Dean hadn’t seen in years but was firmly ingrained in his memory. Pinned against the altar by symbols etched everywhere around him was someone Dean was very familiar with.

“Well, well, look who’s come to join the party,” Ramiel said dryly. Dean’s mind flashed back to this son of a bitch stabbing Castiel with the Lance of Michael and leaving him to rot from the inside out, and he had to suppress the urge to stab the demon right in his bearded face. If he did that, it was all over.

“Where’s Camael?” Sam said. Ramiel just chuckled.

“There’s no point, boy,” he said. “You think you can stop the seal from breaking?”

“Would’ve thought you’d want to kind of not die,” Dean said, approaching Ramiel to destroy enough sigils that the demon could get free. Ramiel shrugged.

“What difference does it make?” he said. “Even if you get me free, they’ll just find me again. It’ll take years for me to disappear underground again. Or they’ll find Dagon or Asmodeus, and you’ll still kill me on principle. If I’m going out, I may as well go out springing Daddy dearest from the Cage.”

“Quit talkin’ out of your ass.” But before Dean could even touch one sigil, an invisible force ripped him away and sent him flying into the opposite wall with Sam, Anna, and Bobby. Castiel remained standing in front of Ramiel, angel blade in hand and aimed at the blond man in a fancy schmancy suit who’d just appeared.

“Guessin’ that’s Camael?” Bobby said, trying to wrench himself away from the wall. Dean growled in frustration when his hand, so tantalisingly close to the Colt in his jeans, refused to budge an inch.

“Why are you doing this, Camael?” Castiel said. “We’ve sworn to protect our Father’s creations. Our job is to oppose Hell and squash it, not cooperate with filthy demons to free a traitor to Heaven.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about traitors to Heaven,” Camael said pleasantly. “Isn’t that right, Ramiel?”

Ramiel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Just put me out of my misery already,” he muttered. “Anything’s better than a winged pissing contest.”

While Camael was distracted, Castiel lunged and sliced with his angel blade. Camael wasn’t able to fully dodge the attack, and he yelped when Castiel’s angel blade grazed his side and opened a gash of blinding light across his ribs. Snarling, he threw Castiel across the church telekinetically and then turned back to Ramiel, but the damage had been done: his hold on Sam, Dean, Anna, and Bobby was broken.

“A gun?” he said when Dean whipped the Colt out. “How uncouth.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Dean said, advancing on Camael. “Not without getting’ your ass beat.”

Camael raised an eyebrow. “You? No. I have orders not to do you any lasting damage. But that doesn’t mean I can’t touch you.” He grabbed Dean by the jacket and threw him into Castiel, who had flown back over. Dean grunted and wrapped his arms around Castiel, trying to protect him while also trying not to get stabbed by Castiel’s angel blade. When Bobby and Anna launched a double attack on Camael, he just sighed and hurled them clean of the entire room, sending them crashing through the double doors.

In the process of being tossed, Dean had lost his grip on the Colt, but Sam snatched it up while Dean groaned and rubbed his head. The next few seconds were a train wreck. Sam aimed the gun at Camael, who was standing in front of Ramiel. Then, clear as day, an image from the original timeline flashed in front of Dean’s eyes: Eileen aiming the Colt at Dagon, who winked out of existence and let the dickish Man of Letters take the hit for her.

“Sam! No!” Dean bellowed. But it was too late; Sam fired the Colt at Camael, but the seraph vanished with the flutter of wings and a small smile across his face. The bullet slammed into Ramiel’s forehead, and all they could do was watch helplessly as he jerked and died in front of their eyes.

“Balls…” Bobby muttered when Ramiel’s body had slumped over.

“Oh my god.” Sam stared down at the Colt in horror. “I – I just killed him! Lucifer – I freed him –”

Dean pushed himself to his feet, then held out a hand to help Castiel up. “Panic later,” he said, pointing at the blood that was trailing from Ramiel’s forehead to form the spiky circle pattern that would free Lucifer. “Get the fuck out of here now.”

Before Castiel could get them out of there, blinding white light erupted out of the ground in the shape of the blood circle and they were forced to shield their eyes and huddle together to try and protect themselves. The light drowned everything out…Dean couldn’t see or hear or feel anything…and then he was crashing onto Bobby’s couch with Castiel on top of him, and the other three on the floor nearby.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

For a moment, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of panting from the four people and one angel in the room as they recovered from what had just happened in Maryland and their sudden transportation to South Dakota. Eventually, Dean shattered the atmosphere.

“Well,” he said, “that was a complete clusterfuck.”

Castiel pushed himself off Dean and sat down as primly as he could next to him. Dean mourned the loss of warmth, though he supposed that now wasn’t the time to be a clingy son of a bitch and demand angel cuddles.

“I’m sorry.” Sam struggled into a sitting position, staring at the Colt in horror. “I – I’m so sorry. I freed Lucifer. I didn’t mean to!”

“Sam, chill,” Dean said. “No one’s blaming you. Just horrible, bad luck.”

“Lucifer’s free?”

Dean turned his head to see that Claire had emerged from the panic room and was looking at them with wide eyes.

“We tried,” Dean said. “Just got unlucky.”

The full weight of what had happened suddenly came crashing down on him. He’d busted his ass for a whole _year_ trying to fix things. And yeah, Chuck had said that this was inevitable, but what the actual fuck?

“I’m done!” Dean jumped up and kicked the table, making Anna nearly jump out of her skin.

“Dean –?” Sam said.

“I’m fuckin’ done! A whole goddamn year and this is how you damn well repay me?” Dean took a deep breath and growled, “I’m tellin’ them. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“Tellin’ us what, boy?” Bobby said, finally on his feet. He sank back down on his couch next to Castiel, muttering about needing a beer. Dean shot a challenging look up at the ceiling, then looked at Anna, and finally turned to face everyone else.

“I’m not from this time,” he said. “I mean, my body is, but _I’m_ not.”

“What?” Sam blinked. The only people who didn’t look confused were Anna, who already knew, and Castiel, who was now squinting at Dean like he was searching for something.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I was on a mission from God. I just didn’t mention that it was future God who sent my soul and memories back to fix shit. I’m from 2017, where we put Lucifer back in the Cage and a whole bunch of shit happened and we died a fuck tonne of times and then Lucifer got out again and caused even more shit.”

Sam, Castiel, Bobby, and Claire blinked slowly. Considering that Anna had believed him about the time travel, Dean hoped that Castiel’s confusion was over how the future had gone to hell rather than the revelation of time travel.

“Did you hit your head back there?” Sam said. “From the future? 2017?”

“Right, ‘cause I haven’t been actin’ weird since I got back,” Dean said sarcastically. “As if anyone in Hell would’ve talked about such important shit in front of me. Only Lilith and Ruby knew about that demon blood plan. That’s why Alastair knew there was somethin’ up with me. I knew about it because Lilith was the final seal last time and Ruby got her hooks so deep in you that you drank a whole demon dry and killed Lilith, and Ruby couldn’t keep her mouth shut after that.”

“I – what?” Sam looked like he was going to be sick. “I wouldn’t –”

“Not this time,” Dean said. “You know why you’re gonna be sick now? ‘Cause I made sure you wouldn’t go that far off-track this time around. And then I got myself kidnapped because Ruby got pissed and I didn’t foresee that happening. But at least Alastair was ganked earlier this time.”

“This isn’t making any sense!” Sam said stubbornly.

“If you’re from the future then how’d Lucifer get sprung?” Bobby said. “Ya should’ve known, right?”

“I just told you how he got out last time!” Dean resisted the urge to pull his hair out. “I didn’t know about Ramiel until, like, a few months before I got sent back. Hell, I didn’t know that there were more demons like Azazel until then. That’s why I didn’t even think that he could be used as the final seal.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Anna piped up before anyone else could protest. “Remember when we were at that barn after trying to get my grace back? Dean ended up telling me then. I’ve been helping him try and stop Lucifer since then.”

“Wow.” Sam gave a dark laugh. “So you told a complete stranger instead of your own brother? Were things really that bad between us in the future?”

“What? No!” Dean said, though he couldn’t help the relief that coursed through him. At least Sam was accepting that he was really from the future. “Things were great, Sammy. Hell, I finally stopped mother-henning you and you kicked a fuck-tonne of British douche ass. But I told you that I’d get my ass beat across the galaxy, didn’t I? Ch – God was pissed enough that I ended up telling you all about him. He nearly smote the crap out of me when I told Anna I was from the future. I kept trying to get him to let me tell you, but he wouldn’t stop that holy ‘wait until the time is right’ bullshit.”

Even though this Sam wasn’t the Sam he’d grown up with, Dean had still spent nearly a whole year with him, so he could see the exact moment that Sam shoved his anger aside for the moment and put on his Serious Business face.

“Right.” Sam sank down on the third seat on the couch, sandwiching Castiel between himself and Bobby. Claire claimed the armchair, her eyes fixed on Dean, leaving him and Anna standing. “What do we need to know?”

“Huh?” Dean said.

“What do we need to know?” Sam repeated. “You have all this future knowledge. Sure, springing Lucifer went differently, but there must be some things coming up that are still going to happen. And you know all this.”

“What happened to not believing me?”

“Look, I still don’t know what to think. But Anna’s backing you up, and it _does_ explain why you’ve been so weird since coming back from Hell. Wait, do you –?”

“I still remember. But I don’t have flashbacks of that or anything. That stuff was years ago. For me, that is.” Dean sighed loudly. “I don’t remember everything off the top of my head, but I’ll sit down later and think, okay?” He looked at Castiel, but his stomach lurched when the angel looked away.

“I’m going to go to bed before my head explodes,” Claire said faintly.

“And I’ll go and update the warding on this place,” Anna said. “Now that Lucifer’s free, they need all the juice they can get.”

Bobby just left the room muttering about how he was getting too old for this shit. That left Sam and Castiel on the couch, staring at Dean.

“I wanted to tell you both,” Dean said. “I swear to – well, God. Hell, I called him out for it ‘cause of where secrets got us in the past.”

“Just tell us something, Dean,” Sam said. “Are you doing this for _us_? Or do you just look at us and wish that it was _your_ Sam and Cas?”

Dean’s heart lurched. Oh. That was why Castiel wasn’t meeting his eyes. Running a hand through his hair again, he sat down on the abandoned armchair and took a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Look,” he finally said, “the future was kind of shit. I’m not gonna go into a massive speech about everything that happened, but…your head was kinda screwed up from Lucifer, Sammy. Not just from this first time, but from the time he got out again – which he tricked you into doing by sending you ‘visions from God’. You weren’t exactly in the best headspace, so you didn’t figure it out till it was too late.”

“I – what?”

Trying to ignore Sam’s stricken look, Dean turned to Castiel, who was still looking at something to Dean’s left. “And Cas…shit, what didn’t happen to you? You got royally fucked for trying to do the right thing. You died a couple more times. And I – well, I kinda treated you like shit during all that. Treated you like some tool to use and then chuck away. I mean, no wonder Lucifer – well, did what he did. S’pose I deserved it. I mean, it wouldn’t’ve happened if I –”

“Dean?” Castiel finally looked at Dean, but Dean couldn’t look him in the eye. He looked down at the ground, furiously fighting back tears because dammit, he wasn’t a fucking baby!

“Lucifer killed you,” he said thickly. “He fucked with you for months and then killed you. And you had PTSD before that from something else that’s my fault too. Probably made it worse, now that I think about it. It’s – it’s all my fault. So Ch – God sent me back here, rather than bringing you back again and letting us fuck around without a clue and make things worse.”

“So how much of this is for us?” Sam said, though his voice was a little gentler. Maybe Dean needed to have a chick flick moment more often. “Or is this just for _your_ Sam and Cas?”

“Of course it’s damn well for you,” Dean said immediately. “Yeah, sometimes I miss having a brother and an angel who actually have the same memories as me. But then I think about those memories, and I think about all the shit I’ve stopped you two from going through, and I realise it’s all worth it. I realise that I’m _happy_ here. I wouldn’t trade you two for anything.”

And it was the truth. As much as he missed the Sam and Cas from the other timeline, this Sam and Castiel were just as much his now. After all the effort he’d put into protecting them this time around, they were just as dear to him as the other Sam and Cas, only differently.

 “We’ll talk more about this when I’m not beat,” Sam said. “I’m gonna go check on Anna and see how the warding is.”

Castiel didn’t make a move to get up as Sam left the room. Dean sat down on the other end of the couch and bit his lip, unable to bring himself to even look at Castiel.

“Is it really me that you have feelings for?” Castiel said quietly. Dean jumped slightly when the silence was broken, and he shot a quick peek at Castiel and saw that the angel was looking down at his hands. “Or are you still clinging to your – to the other Castiel? Because I don’t want to be a replacement.”

“No way. You’re not a replacement,” Dean said straight away. He took another half a minute to gather his thoughts so that he wouldn’t mess up, because what he said next was absolutely critical. “Those memories I got of other Cas? They’re why I knew you could turn around and tell those dickbags to fuck off. You did it before, and that was when we didn’t like each other very much. But I know you’re not him. He’s…gone. And I know he’s not coming back. But don’t you think for one second that you’re some sorta consolation prize, Cas. I lo – like you for _you_ , not ‘cause I’m clinging to some other version of you.”

Castiel said nothing. A stone forming in his stomach, Dean tried to catch Castiel’s eye and get an idea of what the angel was thinking. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about being from the future. What if Chuck was right and telling everyone about this had only fucked it all up?

“I need some time to think,” Castiel finally said. Before Dean could say anything, the angel was gone in a rustle of feathers. Dean swallowed heavily and bent down to start unlacing his boots so that he could try and catch an hour or two of sleep. That reaction was better than Castiel just telling him to fuck off, right? At least that meant there was a chance he’d forgive Dean. But that reassurance did nothing for the pit in Dean’s stomach.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Smuuuuttttt…
> 
>  
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“You’re avoiding everyone, aren’t you? We haven’t seen you all day.”

Dean’s hand jerked, nearly messing up the date he was entering on the massive timeline he’d pasted around the walls of the panic room. As it was, the marker blotted the paper and made the “2” nearly indecipherable.

“You ever heard of knocking?” he demanded.

“I have.” Claire entered the room, staring around at the huge timeline in awe. “Whoa. You really are from the future.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Dean muttered, tapping his marker against the paper while racking his brains for the next hunt in the timeline.

“‘9 December 2012’,” Claire read off the piece of paper Dean was working on. “‘Looney Tunes case in Oklahoma City’. What the heck?”

“Just a psychic,” Dean said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Right. Sure.” Claire sat down on the bed, watching as Dean made another entry in the timeline. “So…when you and Anna showed up and killed those demons…”

“Honestly, I had no clue that’d happen,” Dean said. “I remembered you and your mom, and I figured I’d show up and check in ‘cause we didn’t know you existed until Heaven yanked Cas out of your dad the first time around.”

“They _what_?”

“Yeah, he found out stuff he wasn’t s’posed to know. So they pulled him back for ‘punishment’. We found Jimmy and he wanted to go back to you and Amelia, but…the demons wanted him to see if they could get any info from him. It was…well, it was a shit-fest. Cas ended up possessing other you and Jimmy got shot but begged Cas to take him back so other you wouldn’t have to do it. Jimmy’s soul ended up in Heaven after Cas got blown to bits by Raphael while Lucifer was getting free.”

Claire’s hand shot up to cover her mouth. Dean was quiet to give her time to process.

“And…my mom?” Claire finally managed to murmur.

“Didn’t really cope. Dumped you at your grandma’s to ‘find herself’ and went missing for two years. We eventually found her, but she died to save other you.” Dean turned to face Claire. “I’m sorry, Claire. I got her killed way earlier this time because I was changing shit.”

“But she was gonna – it was gonna happen anyway?” Claire sounded rather dazed. All Dean could do was nod and wait for Claire to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts. “Did I end up better this time around? What was my other self like?”

“Angry,” was the first word that came to Dean. “Just…angry. At Jimmy and Amelia, at Cas…at the world. But she got a bit better once she saw that revenge wasn’t the answer. It never is, Claire. All it brings is more shit. Once she let people help her, she turned into a real good person. And a damn good hunter.”

Claire looked down at the ground, not saying anything for the next few minutes. Dean managed to get a few more timeline entries down in the meantime.

“I – I still hate Cas,” Claire admitted. “I mean, I don’t _hate_ him. But…I’m still so angry that he took my dad from me. And that my mom died because of him.”

“And you got every right to feel that way,” Dean said. He capped his marker, then crossed over to the bed and sat down next to Claire so he could sling an arm around her shoulder like they were some shitty domestic family. “I completely understand. But Cas? He’s my best friend – no, he’s _more_ than that.”

Claire’s eyebrows shot up. But she didn’t say anything, so Dean took that as her blessing.

“He saved my ass over and over in the other timeline, and he’s come through for me here,” he continued. “And he cared about you in that timeline, Claire. He tracked you down and busted his ass helping you. Just give this one some time, okay? He’ll never be your dad, but Cas’ll be there for you no matter what. As soon as he realised just how much angel possession impacted the vessels’ families, he shot off to find you.”

Claire shrugged, which was probably as good an answer as Dean was going to get. Well, shit. This was probably the cheesiest chick flick moment he’d ever had, and he had to fix his reputation before it got out that he could be _soft_ and _nice_ to people. Thankfully, Claire salvaged the situation for him.

“Does time travel always make people so sappy?” she teased.

“Excuse me?” Dean poked her in the ribs and she gasped and doubled over. “You shut your mouth, okay?”

“Get off me!” Claire threw Dean’s arm off her and jumped to her feet. “You totally distracted me. Bobby told me to tell you to ‘get your ass up there ‘cause dinner’s nearly done and I ain’t a room service maid’. So it’s probably ready now.”

“I bet he’d look good in a maid outfit,” Dean winked. Claire giggled, then clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Oh no,” she groaned. “Don’t imagine it. I’m gonna be sick.”

Dean’s mind promptly conjured up an image of Bobby in a black and white dress, and his appetite instantly vanished. “Oh, shit. Fuck me up the ass.”

“And speaking of that,” Claire said, “I know you like Cas. But…he’s still in my dad’s body. So if you’re gonna do that disgusting stuff, keep it out of my face. You got that? Or I’ll do what I used to do to – to Mom and Dad, and I’ll kick you in the shins.”

That was probably as close to wholehearted support as Dean was going to get. Hey, he’d take it.

* * *

The next morning, after sending up a quick prayer to Castiel and getting no response, Dean gathered up a stack of notes and called everyone in the house to the living room.

“Okay, so this is all I remember about what happened first time around,” he said, holding the notes out. Sam immediately snatched them and started rifling through them. “I don’t remember everything, so don’t act like I’m some prophet or somethin’.”

“The Four Horsemen?” Sam exclaimed. “Wait, _the_ Horsemen?”

“Yep. War, Famine, Pestilence, Death. Though I kinda wanna steer clear of Death. I dunno if he remembers the other timeline but if he does, he’s gonna be _pissed_ at me.”

“What exactly could you do to make _Death_ hate you?” Anna said sceptically.

“I may have…kinda killed him with his own scythe so I wouldn’t have to kill Sammy,” Dean admitted. Sam, Bobby, Anna, and Claire stared at him with wide eyes. “What? Weird time, man. Actually, it was a pretty violent time. I’m not exactly proud of it. _Anyway_ –” Dean angled himself around so that he could see the notes, and he jabbed a finger, “– War’s gonna pop up in about a week and a half. Famine got Valentine’s Day – goddamn, that was a weird one – and Pestilence didn’t show his ugly face until, like, next April.”

Thinking about the Horsemen brought up a random memory: Brady, Sam’s college friend, who’d been possessed and killed Jess. Brady had been working for Pestilence, hadn’t he? That whole “Croatoan virus through flu vaccines” thing with Niveus Pharmaceuticals. Well, shit. He couldn’t tell Sam this. It would absolutely destroy his brother.

“Dean?” Sam said. “That’s your ‘I know something bad’ face. What’s up?”

“What? Nothing!” Dean tried to be bright and dismissive. “Anyway, I think we should start planning to get to River Pass early, take War out before he can –”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said. “What aren’t you telling us? What happened to not keeping secrets?”

Dean’s shoulders slumped. Sam deserved to know, since they’d have to take Brady out sometime. “Yeah, okay. But you’re not gonna like it. So, there was this demon working for Pestilence to spread the Croatoan virus through flu vaccines with Niveus Pharmaceuticals.”

“Croatoan?” Sam’s eyes widened again.

“Yep. Nasty stuff. But…Sammy, that demon was possessing Brady. You know, your college friend. He’s been in Brady since before you even met Jess.”

“ _Brady_?” Sam dropped the sheets of paper. “What – but – I don’t –”

“And…shit, Sam, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. But…he’s the one who killed Jess. Azazel put the hit out, but Brady did the actual thing. The whole reason for introducing you to Jess was so they could use her to force you back into hunting.”

Sam had gone a sickly shade of white. Before Dean could say anything to try and reassure him, Sam pushed himself to his feet with trembling hands and stumbled towards the front door without a word.

“Who’s Jess?” Claire said quietly. “His girlfriend or something?”

“Yeah, she was.” Dean cleared his throat. “She got killed just like Mom did.”

“Well, no point goin’ over these notes till Sam’s back,” Bobby said. “I’m gonna get a beer. Ya want one?”

Dean nodded. Part of him wished that he had Bobby’s ability to prioritise emotions like that and pretend that he wasn’t bothered. Sure, he was good at cracking a smile and acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, but…these days, he didn’t want to anymore. It was kind of nice to be able to lean on others for support. And that’d been something he’d just been learning in the other timeline before shit went down.

When Sam came back inside twenty minutes later, the others were morosely drinking beer – except Claire, who had a can of lemonade – and eyeing up the notes as though they were a venomous snake. Dean was the first to look up.

“You look like shit,” he commented. Sam was still pale, though not like before, and his knuckles were suspiciously red.

“I’m fine,” Sam said hoarsely. “Just…had to deal.”

“‘S cool. C’mon, let’s get back to this.”

When Sam was seated and had accepted a beer from Bobby, he turned to Dean and said, “So what’s the grand plan here? All this can’t just be for Lucifer.”

“Yeah, you’re right. This shit’s what our entire lives were leading up to.” Dean took a long swig of beer. “Azazel gave you the demon blood to prep you. ‘Cause you and me? We’re the true vessels of Michael and Lucifer. The demon blood was to make you strong enough to hold Lucifer, and the Croatoan stuff’s supposed to wipe out everyone except those with demon blood, and you’re the only one of them left now. This whole Apocalypse schtick is just them duking it out, with Earth gettin’ obliterated in the process. And trust me, I’ve seen how the world turns out if that happens,” he added, his mind flashing back to the other universe that Jack had opened up while being born.

Sam didn’t say anything. Dean honestly didn’t think he could. Instead, his brother just sat there, doing his best impression of a goldfish with how his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Around him, Bobby and Claire looked like they wanted to faint, and even Anna looked a little pale.

“There’s no way we’re gonna say yes, okay?” Dean said. “Only reason you said yes last time was ‘cause we had a plan to trap Lucifer, not ‘cause you gave in. But we’re not doin’ that this time. If we don’t get rid of him for good, he’s gonna make like herpes and keep comin’ back.”

“I’m – I’m _Lucifer’s_ vessel?” a horrified Sam said. “But – I thought I was – I’m not a good person?”

“Oh, calm down, Sam,” Anna said. “It’s just bloodlines and thematic parallels. It doesn’t have anything to do with you being a bad person.”

“I mean, hell, Ca – someone else held Lucifer nearly perfectly,” Dean said. He tried not to wince when he realised that the others had noticed his slip-up. “Sure, he just started to burn out after a few months, but that guy’s bloodline was pretty darn strong. Anna’s right, it’s just bloodline crap.”

“Okay, so movin’ on to actual plannin’,” Bobby said. “Ya got any plans to ice the Devil?”

“As a matter of fact, my good man, I have three!” Dean said brightly.

“Never fuckin’ call me that again,” Bobby said. “So, what’re these plans of yours?”

“One.” Dean held up one finger. “Lance of Michael. A weapon crafted for Michael to kill Lucifer, even though he seemed to have _lost_ it last time!” He yelled the last part up at the ceiling, though he wasn’t sure who he was directing his ire at. “Nasty shit, but it’ll kill Lucifer. We just gotta find it.”

“Right,” Sam said, though he still sounded a little out of it. “Plan two?”

“Hands of God,” Dean said. “We had a, er…situation where we needed God power and he didn’t pop in to fix shit until it got real bad. So we went looking for Hands of God. Haven’t actually seen one used against an archangel, but I’d imagine it would work.”

“They should,” Anna confirmed. “But all of them were lost centuries ago.”

“Good thing I know about a few, isn’t it?” Dean said. “And plan three won’t kill him but it’ll put him away. Get the Rings of the Four Horsemen and use them to open up a Hell rift and kick Lucifer straight back into the Cage. We used that plan last time and, well…it got him back in the Cage, but I’d prefer we make sure he’s dead or he’ll cause a tonne more shit.”

“Okay, so where the hell are we s’posed to find the Lance or a Hand?” Bobby said. “‘Cause they ain’t much use to us if we don’t know where they are.”

“I’ll search while my wings last.”

“Jesus Christ!” Dean nearly jumped out of his skin and some of his beer sloshed out of the bottle and down his hand. “Dude, we’re gonna have to tie a bell around your neck or somethin’!”

Castiel tilted his head with a frown. “Why would you tie a bell around my neck?”

“Just – never mind.” Dean paused. “Wait, how long were you standing there?”

“I arrived as you were explaining about the Lance of Michael,” Castiel said. “I didn’t want to interrupt, so I merely hid myself and listened.”

“Well, you just missed an absolutely enlightening conversation about the Four Horsemen,” Dean said. “Nothin’ much.”

“What were you saying about looking while your wings last?” Claire said quietly. Dean couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise; that was the first time Claire had actually addressed Castiel directly. Maybe she’d taken their conversation to heart.

“I’m falling.” Castiel’s mouth downturned. “I turned my back on Heaven by assisting you in your attempt to prevent Lucifer from rising. I can already feel myself being cut off from Heaven. My grace will eventually dwindle into nothing and I’ll essentially be human.”

Well, shit. Dean had been concerned about this at the very start, but he’d forgotten about it in his rush to both stop the Apocalypse and get Castiel back from Heaven. He’d completely forgotten the anguish that Castiel went through when he fell the first time around.

“Hey, it’s not _that_ bad being human,” Anna tried to tease. But Castiel turned to her with such a look of despair that she grimaced and looked away.

“Maybe you could ask Gabriel for help,” Dean said. “Oh yeah, for anyone who doesn’t know, Gabriel’s the angel I got to help me and Anna save Cas. He picked that I was from the future ‘cause God didn’t hide my soul from archangels. Oh, and he’s the douchebag who turned me and Sam against each other with those pranks and then killed me a hundred times.”

“The Trickster? He’s _Gabriel_?” Sam looked like he was going to faint. Honestly, Dean didn’t blame the poor guy.

“Yep. He doesn’t wanna be involved in any Apocalypse shit, but he’s gotta at least help Cas find a weapon. You just have to promise him that he won’t get his hands dirty in the Michael v. Lucifer smackdown.”

“I’ll do that,” Castiel said.

They kept the planning short for Sam’s sake, along with the fact that there wasn’t really much they could do right that moment. After another ten minutes of discussing notes and strategy, Sam gathered up the sheets and said that he’d go and take a look at the timeline in the panic room so that he’d have more of an idea of what to expect. Part of Dean didn’t want Sam to see everything that had been prevented and find out what he’d gone through in the future. But the other part of him recognised that maybe it was necessary for Sam to know. Maybe it would give him peace of mind or something.

“May I talk to you alone, Dean?” Castiel said. Nodding, Dean gestured for Castiel to follow him outside and over to the Impala, where they’d have a bit of privacy.

“What’s up, buddy?” Dean said when he was leaning against the backseat door. Castiel was silent, probably gathering his thoughts.

“I’ve…thought about what you said,” Castiel said. “Honestly, I haven’t been thinking of much else. I just need to ask you again: do you truly like me? You don’t just want to replace the first Castiel?”

“I swear to your Father,” Dean said, looking him straight in the eye, “that I’m not using you as a replacement. I – fuck, I _need_ you, Cas. Not for your power or whatever, but – _you_. I _need_ you.”

“You –?”

“Yeah.” It felt like a huge weight had been suddenly lifted of Dean’s shoulders, leaving him free to laugh and reach out to tease Castiel’s fingers with his own. “And I mean, it was the other Cas who got me to the point where I could say it, even though I was – well, even though shit was goin’ down when I said it. And I tried to pretend it never happened so I wouldn’t have to talk about it, which just fucked the other Cas around even more. But I – I need _you_ for everything that _you’ve_ done. I s’pose the other Cas just…gave me the faith I needed in you.”

“Dean –”

“The other Cas is gone. I ain’t gonna lie and say that it doesn’t hurt, ‘cause I sit down and remember him and everything we went through and it hurts like a fucking bitch, but I’d _never_ use you to replace him. I’ve had months to wrap my head around this and –”

Dean found himself pinned to the car door with warm lips attacking his before he could even finish his sentence. With a surprised groan that was muffled by the kiss, he slid his hands past Castiel’s coats and rested them on the angel’s hips, where delicious warmth was radiating through the thin material of his white shirt.

“Cas,” he gasped against Castiel’s mouth, brain shutting down. “Cas – just –” He fumbled behind him for the door handle, then pushed against Castiel to give him room so he could pull the door open. Before Castiel could resume his assault, Dean flipped them and pushed so that Castiel toppled back into the Impala, sprawled on the backseat.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped as Dean crawled into the car and closed the door, then settled on top of him. “Dean – I want – I need –”

“Shh.” Dean bent down to give Castiel a quick kiss, then shuffled back to unbutton and unzip the angel’s pants. “I got you, angel.”

They’d just dry humped each other like teenagers last time they’d done this, so Dean hadn’t actually gotten a look at Castiel’s dick. He couldn’t contain the moan that slipped out when he’d slipped a hand down Castiel’s white boxers and finally – _finally_ – freed his cock from its confines.

“Whoa…” Dean was practically salivating. It was a very nice cock: not too thick or long, but just thick and long enough that getting it into his mouth was suddenly all he could think about.

“Dean?” Castiel struggled to lean against the door so that he could see what Dean was doing. “What – _oh_!”

Dean had dived down and closed his lips around the head of Castiel’s cock, just sucking lightly. Okay, so he’d never sucked dick before in his life, but he’d had his dick sucked plenty of times and he had a fair idea of what he liked and disliked. He’d just have to wing it and try to recreate what he liked…not that Castiel seemed to be complaining.

“Dean – Dean –” Castiel kept repeating. His hands flew out and tangled in Dean’s short hair, yanking so sharply that Dean’s eyes watered. But the pain also sent a hot jolt straight downstairs. Who knew that Dean had a pain kink?

It was mildly surprising that Castiel didn’t last too long – but then, Dean supposed he shouldn’t have expected someone who’d only had one orgasm in his entire existence to be able to last more than a few minutes into a blowjob. Dean bobbed his head, took Castiel as far as he could, and then Castiel let out a choked cry and arched his back as he came down Dean’s throat. Taken by surprise, Dean coughed and spluttered, but he managed to swallow every last drop.

“Good?” he rasped, grinning as he pulled away. Castiel just sagged against the door, panting, and managed a shaky nod. “Good.”

He crawled up Castiel’s body, intending to kiss the angel, but Castiel surprised him by flipping them – using his wings, if the familiar rustling sound was any indication – and kissing Dean furiously until Dean’s brain had turned to mush and leaked out of his ears.

“I want to make you feel good.” Castiel fumbled to get Dean’s jeans open. “Please.”

Dean moaned and tipped his head back when Castiel’s hand slid into his underwear and closed around his dick. “Y-Yeah.”

He lasted an embarrassingly short amount of time, though he supposed that he’d never slept with someone who he felt this strongly for. Before long, he was spurting all over his own shirt and Castiel was kissing the breath out of him, pumping him through his orgasm.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean gasped, using what little strength was still in him to wrap his arms around Castiel and pull the angel down on top of him, smearing the sticky fluid between them. The car was much smaller than the motel room where they’d first got it on, so their breathless sounds were much louder in the confined space. Dean absently prayed that no one came past, since the windows were fogged as a result of their… _activities_ , and anyone passing by would immediately know what happened. Except for Claire. But she’d probably look to see what was going on, and Dean _had_ promised not to flaunt it in front of her.

“My apologies,” Castiel said into Dean’s collarbone. “I was just – so desperate –”

Dean laughed. “Well, bein’ horny does that to a guy.” He started to card his fingers through Castiel’s sweat-dampened hair. To his surprise, Castiel purred and snuggled up against him even further, chasing the sensation.

“Keep doing that,” the angel ordered, though there was no heat in his voice.

“Whatever you say, sir,” Dean said teasingly. He didn’t miss how Castiel’s whole body shivered. Huh. That was something they’d have to test out later.

“I should go,” Castiel said after a short while. “I have a mission. But I don’t want to leave. It feels so…so good.”

“Stay as long as you can. Not like a day’ll make a difference in ganking the Devil.”

“You make a –” Castiel yawned, “– compelling argument. For once in my existence, I want to be selfish.”

“Good,” Dean grinned, leaning down slightly to plant a kiss on Castiel’s head. In response, Castiel angled his head up and caught Dean’s mouth in a sweet kiss, and Dean used his free hand to cup Castiel’s cheek and caress it with his fingers. Castiel shivered violently.

“I – I like you touching me like this,” he said. “A lot. Maybe even more than sexual activities. It’s – the sensation is nice without being overwhelming.”

“Well, if you ever don’t wanna do anything, just tell me,” Dean said, gently pushing Castiel’s head back down to rest on his chest. One hand continued to stroke his hair, while his other hand fumbled for one of Castiel’s and linked their fingers together. Yeah, he was probably just as much of a needy bitch as Castiel was, so this was going to work out just fine. “Seriously. Don’t ever feel like you gotta do something just ‘cause you want to make me happy. I’m good to just touch you like this.”

“This makes me happy.” Castiel nuzzled into the crook of Dean’s neck, leaving light kisses and sending shivers dancing across Dean’s skin. “ _You_ make me very happy.”

Something exploded in Dean’s chest and surged around his body with every heartbeat. “Yeah?” he grinned. “Well, right back at you. And seriously, Cas, you don’t gotta worry about the other Cas. I’ve made my peace with him. _You_ make me happy.”

Castiel didn’t say anything about that, but Dean could feel Castiel let go of a tightness he didn’t even know the angel had. Dean kissed Castiel on the top of the head again to seal the deal. Man, was he an affectionate son of a bitch after sex. He’d never been like this with anyone else – well, to be more accurate, he’d never been _able_ to be like this with anyone else. Even with Cassie and Lisa, there had been an invisible barrier of sorts; maybe the knowledge that they couldn’t defend themselves against this stuff, and he couldn’t get too close even if they knew, like Lisa. But Castiel was…different. He was badass, terrifying, adorable…and Dean was completely gone on him.

“I’ll leave later.” Castiel shattered the silence. “I don’t want to get up right now. If Lucifer wasn’t a problem, I wouldn’t ever get up.”

“Story of my life,” Dean said with a little humourless laugh. “I don’t ever not want you around, just so you know.”

Castiel hummed and buried his face back in the crook of Dean’s neck. “Good,” he said, his voice muffled. “Because I feel exactly the same way about you.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that. With nothing to do except play with Castiel’s hair, Dean found himself drifting off. He idly wondered if he should summon Crowley again and ask for intel help but then dismissed the idea as soon as he came up with it. He already owed the slippery demon a favour for the Colt, and he’d still failed to prevent the Apocalypse from happening despite making good on his promise to kill Lilith. Crowley would no doubt be deep in hiding right about now, and he probably wouldn’t show his face since Dean had three plans ready to go this time instead of fumbling around like a jackass until the demon had taken pity on him.

Dean wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen asleep, or even how long he was asleep for. But he was rudely awakened by the afternoon sunlight streaming into the Impala, and when he raised a hand to groan and shield his eyes, he found that Castiel was no longer cuddled up with him. He was all alone, with a clean shirt and neatly fastened jeans to make him wonder if, like last time, it had all been a dream. But the strong smell of ozone and petrichor hanging in the air disproved this theory. Castiel _had_ been here and they _had_ done that. Dean just wished that Castiel would stop disappearing while he slept, even though he knew rationally that Castiel kind of had an important job to do.

With another groan, Dean shifted his position, wincing at the dull ache in his neck from leaning against the door like he had been. Screw it all, he was going to stay here until he couldn’t smell Castiel any longer. It wasn’t like they could really do anything about the Apocalypse until a week and a half from then, when War would make an appearance. And until Castiel found the Lance or a Hand, they couldn’t exactly fight back against Lucifer.

 _You be careful, you hear me?_ he ordered in prayer to Castiel. _If you get yourself killed, I’m gonna come and personally kick your ass myself._

Screw it. For once in his life, Dean was going to be a selfish son of a bitch. He was just glad that Castiel had cleaned him up, because the last thing he needed was for someone to come looking for him and find him with jizz all over him and his pants down.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> There’s smut here too! Honestly, this isn’t turning into a ‘they have to get it on every chapter now that they’re together’ story, but it is very new for both of them. The next smut after this will be a few chapters away, and they won’t be too often. I also probably won’t be as detailed with them as I was here but…come on, this is special.
> 
> Also, as much as I pretend 9.03 doesn’t exist because of how triggering and fucked up it is, I can’t deny that the protection exchange was absolutely priceless.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Seriously?” Sam grimaced. “Stop playing with it, Dean!”

Dean just grinned and thrust the bloody ring in Sam’s face while also trying to keep the Impala straight. “What, scared of a little blood?” he taunted.

“Gross!” Sam slapped the ring away from him. “If you’re gonna be like this after every Horseman, I’ll just slice them all myself!”

Still grinning, Dean pocketed War’s ring. River Pass had gone absolutely fantastically; in before War could wreak havoc, slice and dice his finger, then out with no casualties. Hell, he hadn’t even run into Rufus and Ellen and Jo like last time, which was probably for the best because he was determined to avoid them for as long as possible. Okay, so he’d come to terms with their deaths and realised that anyone he was even remotely close to was destined to die, but that didn’t make it any easier. Bobby was the only one he’d just easily slipped back into routine with because, well… _Bobby_.

 A couple of hours later, the sun was hanging low in the sky, Dean’s bladder was about ready to burst, and Baby looked like she could do with a nice snack as well. Dean pulled up to the next gas station they came across: a run-down little place a couple of miles out from the next town, but at least it had gas and a decent assortment of snacks to pick from. But of course they didn’t have pie. Who the fuck did these days?

“Hurry up, bitch!” Dean shouted in the direction of the restroom after he’d done his business and paid for Baby’s fuel and their snacks. “Or I’m drivin’ off without you!”

Sam emerged from the restroom with Bitchface #13, wiping his hands dry on his shirt. “Five minutes, Dean,” he said. “It’s not like I was taking half an hour.”

“Good thing I called you, then,” Dean said. “Just leave the hair styling till we get back to Bobby’s, okay?”

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but then stiffened ever so slightly. A normal person probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Dean was so attuned to his brother that it was glaringly obvious that Sam was on guard.

“Hello, boys,” a voice said. Dean whirled around to see a woman dressed in a sleek black pantsuit, her pale brown hair loose around her face. Even without the fancy suit, Dean would’ve known she was an angel just from the pole-up-the-ass way she carried herself.

“Sorry,” Dean said. “Didn’t sign up to speak to winged dicks today.”

Before he could make a move, the angel positioned herself in front of the driver’s door. Great. Now he’d have to get through her to drive off, and there was no way she’d just stand aside for him. At least she wasn’t tossing them around for fun. That was something.

“My name is Barachiel,” the angel said.

“Cool.” Dean crossed his arms. “Should I care?”

“You should. I’m the seraph who got to take over Zachariah’s position when you killed him.” Barachiel gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. I’ve been gunning for a promotion for centuries.”

“Glad I could help,” Dean deadpanned. “Now, can you get the hell out of the way? We just kicked War’s ass, so we’re not in the mood.”

“I’ll make this quick, then,” Barachiel said. “I’m not sure if you know this yet, but your destiny –”

“Is to be an angel condom for Michael. I know. Get out of my way, sweetheart.”

“You have my deepest sympathies.” Barachiel looked over Dean’s shoulder at Sam. “Both of you do. I don’t envy the position you’re in, having to battle each other.”

“Well, good thing we’re saying, ‘fuck you’ to the script, right?” Dean said. “We’re stoppin’ Lucifer our own way. If you got a problem with that, feel free to break out the torture. But I warn you, you’ll end up just like Zachie.”

The pitying expression on Barachiel’s face made Dean want to punch something hard. “The longer you wait, the more people die,” she said. “And if you were to say yes, Dean, I would personally guarantee protection for Sam of the highest order. With Michael in his true vessel and Lucifer in an inferior one, there’s no way that Michael can lose. And I know that certain angels were…sympathetic to Lucifer’s cause. I’m not one of them. I want Michael to win and keeping your brother safe from Lucifer will directly contribute to that goal.”

“Nice speech,” Dean said when Barachiel finally shut up. “But you’re wastin’ your breath. Neither of us are saying yes. And how many people die when Michael and Lucifer duke it out, huh? You dicks don’t give a fuck about us mud monkeys down here on Earth.”

“If you’re trying to provoke me into violence, it won’t work,” Barachiel said in amusement. “I’m not to lay a finger on either of you. Michael’s orders. And I’m nowhere near as…shall we say, uncouth as Zachariah. I don’t enjoy inflicting pain, even when it’s a necessity. I just wanted to talk to you and try to persuade you to say yes. I’ll even give you time to think. Just pray to me when you’re ready to agree.”

She disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Well,” Dean commented, “that was a shit-fest from start to finish.”

“Who the hell is she?” Sam said.

“No idea. Never even met her in the other timeline. Hell, I thought the only seraph around was Zachariah, and now we got Camael and Barachiel dancing around too.”

“She seems…nice,” Sam said. “I mean, I don’t trust her, but shouldn’t angels be great big dicks?”

“Trust me, Sammy, she’s a huge one.” Dean opened the driver’s door and slid into the car, Sam following suit on the opposite side. “She’s just suckin’ up our asses to get what she wants, especially if she’s replacing Zachariah and knows that his approach didn’t work. I don’t buy any of that bullshit about wanting to ‘keep you safe from Lucifer’. Where’s my phone?”

Thankfully, Anna picked up after a few dials. “What?” she said. “If you need some divine intervention, I’m not exactly the best one to call.”

“Well, good thing you mention divine bullshit,” Dean said. “You ever heard of a seraph called Barachiel?”

“Yeah,” Anna said slowly. “Why? Did she drop in?”

“Yep. Spun a speech about being Zachariah’s replacement and being nice to me and not torturing me and wanting to protect Sam from Lucifer. Honestly, I might’ve fallen for it if I didn’t have nine years’ memories worth of dickbag angels.”

“Well, she was one of the nicer angels,” Anna said. “I remember that much. But she was one of Heaven’s most ruthless hitmen and she’s got no problems with getting her hands dirty when she needs to. Don’t underestimate her, whatever you do.”

“Believe me, we won’t.”

* * *

“Dean?”

Groaning, Dean tried to turn over, but the owner of the voice was persistent and pushed his shoulder while repeating his name.

“What?” Dean mumbled, flinging an arm over his eyes. “‘M sleepin’.”

“Dean. It’s Lucifer.”

Dean shot up in bed, the sleep immediately draining from him at the mention of Lucifer. He fumbled for the Colt under his pillow, expecting to see Lucifer’s ugly mug gloating in front of him, but it was just Sam, who was toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Jesus.” Dean sagged in bed. “Thought I was gonna die. What the hell, Sam?”

“Lucifer’s in my dreams.” Sam looked down at the ground. “He keeps urging me to say yes, and I – I’m barely getting any sleep! He’s telling me to get rid of the hex bags and say yes so he can cream Michael, and he’s talking about minimising casualties, and he knows what to say, Dean! I don’t want to say yes, but he knows!”

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “Right. Cas, we got a Lucifer situation!”

Castiel appeared behind Sam in a heartbeat. “Where?” he demanded, angel blade slipping into his hand.

“Whoa, whoa, put it away,” Dean said. “Lucifer’s not here, but he’s in Sam’s head. Not sure how long the hex bags’ll hold out. Can you do anything to boot him from Sam’s head?”

“No.” Castiel gave a small, apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the power to keep an archangel out. But I can hide you and Sam from all angels.”

“The rib thing, right?” Dean said. “Carving those symbols into our ribs?”

“That worked last time?” Sam said.

“Yep. Not even Michael could find me. Zachariah had to get some beggars to pray to him if they saw me.”

“In that case…” Castiel stowed his angel blade away, then reached out to touch Sam and Dean’s foreheads. Dean hissed at the hot, burning pain as the sigils seared themselves into his ribs, but thankfully the pain only lasted for a moment. “I’ll protect Anna, Bobby, and Claire next time I see them. Again, I’m sorry that I can’t help you against Lucifer, Sam.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” Sam waved him off. “I’ll just…go take a walk and clear my mind. Don’t wait up.”

With a downturned mouth, Dean watched Sam leave. It absolutely sucked that his brother couldn’t even catch a break in sleep, and he was tempted to pray to Chuck, but he knew the deity wouldn’t answer. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from Chuck in a while. Not that he was complaining, really.

“How’s the search goin’?” he asked. Castiel sighed and sat down on the bed, and Dean immediately shuffled over so that he could wrap his arms around Castiel and hold him close. Castiel let out a small sound and melted into the embrace. Okay, so Dean was a fucking sap. Sue him. He was making up for lost affection, and he’d punch anyone who dared call him a chick.

“Rather slow,” Castiel said. His body was stiff, so Dean began to stroke his hair in the hopes that it would calm him down, and he was rewarded with a soft purr. “Mmm, keep doing that.”

“That helpin’?” Dean said. Castiel let out another long sigh.

“ _Yes_. I – I’ve been praying to Gabriel for help, but he’s been ignoring my requests.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Dean said. “That’s Gabriel. Honestly, I’m shocked he even agreed to help me and Anna find you.”

Castiel tensed, no doubt replaying his time with Alastair in his mind.

“Hey.” Dean pushed Castiel’s chin up so that he could kiss the angel on the lips. “Don’t stress yourself out, okay? You don’t have to find everything right this second.”

“But the more time I take to find a weapon, the more people will die,” Castiel said quietly.

“People are gonna die anyway. Cas, it took a year to kick his ass last time, and you ran yourself into the ground tryin’. But you’ve got an easier goal this time around.” Dean paused, then added, “Stay here for the night and relax, okay?”

“I should really –”

“Hey, takin’ a night off every now and then won’t kill ya. Besides…” Dean squeezed Castiel in the embrace. “I kinda miss you when you’re not here.”

That did the trick; Castiel looked up and gave Dean a tired little smile before nodding and saying, “Okay. You’re right. One night can’t hurt.”

“That’s it,” Dean said encouragingly. He pushed the trench coat and suit jacket off Castiel’s shoulders, adding, “If you’re gonna lie in bed with me, you gotta relax. No one in their right mind sleeps in all these layers.”

“You sleep in at least three layers,” Castiel pointed out as Dean slid to the floor to remove his shoes and socks for him. Dean grinned and playfully slapped Castiel on the calf.

“Don’t be a little shit.”

“I don’t understand how –”

Dean silenced Castiel with a short kiss while he undid the angel’s tie. Then he crawled back into bed and held the covers out in invitation, and it only took a second of hesitation on Castiel’s part to slide under them with him. Castiel immediately snuggled up to Dean’s side, and Dean idly wondered if the angel had a thing for that position because he seemed to always end up being the one to cuddle into Dean. Had Castiel ever been cuddled before? The thought that this beautiful being had gone without affection all his life made Dean’s stomach roll, and he tightened his hold on Castiel.

“Can you stay here till I wake up?” Dean said, though he was feeling girlier by the second even acknowledging his feelings like this. “I don’t like it when you zap out and I wake up alone. I – fuck – I kinda like waking up next to someone. I know you gotta go tomorrow but…just at least stick around until I wake up?”

Castiel gave him a tiny little smile – holy shit, since when did Castiel _smile_? – and leaned up to brush his lips across Dean’s. “Of course,” he said. “All you have to do is ask. I’ve only known you for nine months and yet…I would do anything for you. And that terrifies me.”

“I’ve known you for nine years – well, nearly ten if you count this timeline too – and I _have_ done anything for you,” Dean said. “Not to rub the other Cas in your face or anything. Just wanted you to know that – that I’m really far gone on you.”

“I know what you meant.” Castiel slipped his hand under Dean’s shirt and rested it against his stomach, causing Dean’s abdominal muscles to spasm and his skin to tingle. “You’re so warm. Humans are simply amazing.”

“You say that now,” Dean said with a little self-deprecating laugh. But Castiel gave him such a stern look that he sighed and thumped his head on the pillow in surrender. “Fine. Whatever. You’re right, they’re not all that bad.”

“Of course I’m right,” Castiel said a little smugly. “I wouldn’t have done what I did if humanity wasn’t worth it. Especially if you weren’t worth it.”

The small smile on Dean’s face immediately slipped off. Shit, he’d forgotten that Castiel had once again sacrificed his grace and family for some schmuck –

“Dean Winchester.” Castiel rolled on top of Dean, blue eyes narrowed. “I can tell exactly what you’re thinking just from the way your face changed. Don’t you _dare_ presume to undermine my choice by blaming yourself. _You’re_ the one who gave me grand speeches about making my own choices and taking control of my own fate. Was that just a lie? Or does free will only suit you when I’m doing what you think I should do?”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel swiftly prevented him from speaking by kissing him so hard that, for a moment, his brain whited out and he couldn’t even remember how to breathe. His body completely on autopilot now, he groaned and reached up to fist Castiel’s hair, then looped his legs around Castiel’s waist and tugged to switch their positions. Sure, Dean didn’t mind being pinned down and made to take it, but that wasn’t the mood he was in tonight. And judging by the way Castiel’s mouth dropped open slightly and his pupils dilated to drown out the blue, the angel was in much the same way as well.

“Jesus, Cas…” Dean rasped, settling himself on Castiel’s hips. Abandoning all pretence of dignified grace, Castiel grabbed Dean by the face and yanked him down to kiss him so hard that their teeth clacked together, and all the oxygen was suddenly sucked out of Dean’s lungs. Since when were angels wild animals? That was the last complex thought Dean’s brain could muster before Castiel’s legs fell open and he grabbed a handful of Dean’s ass to pull him even closer.

“I want – I want _you_ ,” Castiel breathed through swollen lips when Dean pulled back to gulp in air. “In any way – I just – can’t control my vessel’s responses –”

“‘S good, Cas,” Dean grinned, slowly grinding his hips against Castiel’s. Castiel let out a shaky gasp and threw his head back, biting his lip. “That’s what sex is about. You’re s’posed to just let your mind go and let your body take over.”

“But I haven’t – _ooh_ – I haven’t had sex.” Castiel’s hands fumbled for his pants, desperately seeking relief, but Dean grabbed his wrists, snickering when Castiel whined and headbutted the pillow with the back of his head in frustration.

“I mean, if you wanna just call what we did before ‘sexual experiences’, then technically you’re right,” Dean said. He swallowed, then looked Castiel directly in the eye. “Do you? Y’know, wanna…sex?”

“Such an eloquent proposition,” Castiel muttered. In revenge, Dean let go of one wrist to squeeze the hard bulge in his pants, and Castiel hissed and bucked up to chase after the friction. “ _Yes_! I want – with you –”

“How?” Dean massaged Castiel’s erection through the slacks. Sure, he’d provide Castiel with some relief, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for the guy or let him get off too soon. “How d’you wanna –”

“ _Just penetrate me already_!” Castiel bellowed, pushing Dean’s hips down and rutting up at the same time.  “See? I can’t – no control –”

“Shh.” Dean gave Castiel a long kiss. “You want control, angel?”

“Yes – I need –” Castiel’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes momentarily. “I need to feel like I can control _something_.”

Dean’s stomach lurched at how Castiel’s voice broke. “Hey.” He kissed Castiel again. “I can still fuck you if you want, but you can be on top if you need that control.”

Castiel nodded frantically. Though he’d been intending to thoroughly worship Castiel’s body, Dean just rolled with the change of plans and let Castiel push him onto his back and swing a leg over his hips. With trembling hands, Castiel slowly pushed Dean’s shirt up to expose his stomach and chest, and Dean pushed himself up to let Castiel slide his shirt off, hissing when Castiel’s thumbs brushed over his stiff nipples. For a moment, Castiel said nothing, just examining Dean’s torso with wide eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” Castiel reached out and rested his hand right over Dean’s racing heart, wrenching a shiver out of Dean. “Your body and your soul. That’s part of the reason I find myself so drawn to you. The light of your soul is a beacon that I can’t help but be attracted to.”

“Shuddup. ‘M not beautiful,” Dean grumbled, though he couldn’t deny that each one of Castiel’s words were pooling in his stomach and simmering so warmly that they threatened to rise in his throat as a solid sensation.

“I beg to differ.” Almost as though he was mesmerised, Castiel bent down and pressed his lips to the pulse point in Dean’s throat, leaving a soft kiss. Dean shivered violently, then inhaled sharply when Castiel’s mouth latched onto the skin and bit hard enough to leave a nice mark.

“H-How – you don’t –” Dean gasped out, tangling a hand in Castiel’s hair and squeezing as Castiel kissed and nipped down his chest. “You never –”

“It’s instinct,” Castiel admitted while sucking a blossoming bruise into Dean’s stomach above his navel. “My vessel seems to know what to do.”

Dean looked like he’d been attacked by a ravenous monster by the time Castiel was done kissing every inch of his top half. And in the mental side of things, Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if he was floating above everything, because he barely felt tethered to his body at the moment.

“I kind of want to stimulate you orally,” Castiel said, fingers brushing over the front of Dean’s jeans, and fuck if Dean’s already hard cock didn’t twitch at the thought of getting that mouth on it. Only Castiel could describe a blowjob so formally and make it sound like a goddamn siren song.

The memory of making out with the siren in Castiel’s form suddenly swam into Dean’s mind, and he forced it out with all the energy he could muster. He was _not_ going to let some creepy monster fuck this all up between him and Castiel.

“Gotta warn ya, I won’t last,” Dean said with a breathless chuckle. Castiel hummed.

“I thought as much. I doubt I would be able to hold out long enough as well, though I could easily will my penis back to full arousal. At least, until my grace diminishes to the point where I’ll no longer have control over my bodily functions.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel’s hands because the poor guy suddenly looked like he was a second from breaking down. “‘M sorry. I know it’s your choice but…I was so keen to get you back from those dicks that I forgot how hard it was for you.”

Castiel stilled for a moment. “What – what did my other self do during his fall?”

“Mostly flew around looking for God.” Dean squeezed his hands. “I probably treated him like utter shit. I was kinda pissed after Sam’s demon blood thing and with the angels trying to get me to say yes, and I was honestly gonna do it near the end till you beat the shit out of me. I…just took you for granted. Every damn time. And it – it makes me feel like a piece of fucking trash –”

Castiel cut him off with a swift kiss. “That’s in the past,” the angel said firmly. “I’m certain that the other me would be very happy with what you’ve done and continue to do here.”

“Yeah…”

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” Castiel caressed Dean’s cheek. “I’m quite content to just lie here with you all night.”

“No. No.” Dean reached out and brushed his fingers across the bulge in Castiel’s slacks. Castiel drew in a sharp breath. “I wanna. Wanna make you feel good. Want it to be perfect for you.”

“Well, I’ve never had intercourse before, so I doubt I would know if it was less than perfect,” Castiel said dryly. But he still kissed Dean while slowly grinding his hips, charging the air between them once more and salvaging the mood from where it had been lying in tatters. Groaning into the kiss, Dean’s fingers scrabbled to undo the tiny buttons of Castiel’s shirt, but his mind had fogged over to the point where it was hard to even concentrate on breathing and not suffocating to death.

(But man, what a way to go).

“Here.” Castiel gripped the two sides of his shirt and yanked, scattering buttons everywhere. Dean swallowed heavily and pushed the tattered cloth down Castiel’s arms with trembling hands. “I can repair it while I still have my grace.”

It wasn’t quite a mad rush to get their pants off, but it was far from any sort of sedate pace. The first touch of Castiel’s dick against his own sent smouldering heat straight to Dean’s groin. They’d humped with their pants on, and they hadn’t actually touched dicks in the Impala, so this was something that Dean had never experienced before. And goddamn, he loved it.

 _This is really fuckin’ gay,_ said a small voice in Dean’s head.

 _Then I’m the fuckin’ gayest person around,_ Dean retorted. The voice had nothing to say to that.

“I believe I have to stretch myself?” Castiel said, squinting at Dean. “That’s what my instincts are telling me.”

“Yeah,” Dean said slightly hoarsely. “Don’t want a dick just bein’ shoved up there.”

“It wouldn’t hurt me –”

“Gotta practice for when you can’t just will your muscles, right?” Dean’s stomach still lurched at the reminder that Castiel’s grace was dwindling again, though he’d already sworn to not treat Castiel anything like he had back when Cas was falling the first time and even when Cas had been human. “And besides, you don’t rush this stuff. Wrecks the mood. Grab the Astroglide outta my duffel and I’ll show ya.”

With a small, irritated sound, Castiel waved his hand and Dean’s half-empty bottle of lube appeared. “My apologies for using my grace,” he said, dropping the bottle on Dean’s stomach. “I just…grew impatient.”

“Uh huh,” Dean said, though he was grinning. He opened the bottle and squirted lube out until his fingers were coated, then started warming the gel, because he’d had one too many hurried solo sessions to know exactly how unsexy cold lube was. He dropped the bottle next to him and tapped Castiel’s legs with his clean hand until the angel’s legs had spread a little wider. “Never done this before, but it’ll feel kinda weird. I mean, that’s how I’d imagine a finger up my ass feeling.”

Castiel just snorted, then gasped when Dean pushed a lubed finger inside. “Oh,” he said, sounding almost puzzled as he shifted his hips.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

“No. It just feels…odd. Not painful, but not pleasurable either.”

“Just you wait, angel.”

By the time Dean had four fingers inside, Castiel had been reduced to a whimpering, panting mess, fisting his own hair as he rolled his hips down onto Dean’s fingers. It’d been smooth sailing once Dean had found Castiel’s prostate, though he was certain that he’d cop a smiting if he teased too much, so he let it be for the time being.

“Should I use protection?” Dean said when he removed his fingers, Castiel still reeling and shaking above him. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to a scruffy, recently un-deaded, de-hymenated Cas. And sure enough, this Castiel didn’t disappoint.

“I have my angel blade. I’m unsure as to why you would need it, though.”

Dean ducked his head, chuckles reverberating through his chest until he was nearly doubled over with laughter. Castiel just watched with a furrowed brow, probably having second thoughts about sleeping with someone as weird and messed-up as Dean.

“Y’know…condom,” Dean finally managed to choke out. “Can you get STIs?”

“STIs?”

“Sexually transmitted infections.”

“I can’t currently catch any human diseases, though I would have cured you of any you might have possessed last time I healed you”

“Okay.” Dean took several deep breaths to dispel the last of his laughter. “And I know you can’t get pregnant.”

“Heaven forbid,” Castiel muttered.

“Nope. Fuck.” Dean grimaced. “Wouldn’t put it past Ch – God to fuck around with your anatomy just to shit me.” Okay, so Chuck had said that Castiel didn’t have the equipment, but Chuck was also an omnipotent deity who seemed to have a penchant for dicking around with Dean. Dean would really have to be forgiven for not trusting him.

“If my Father was going to allow me to fall pregnant just to spite you, I highly doubt that he would allow it to happen in the middle of the Apocalypse,” Castiel said. “So I think you’re safe for now.”

“Right, so now that that safety talk’s outta the way, it’s just down to whether you want a huge mess in your ass or not,” Dean said.

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Castiel said. Dean snorted.

“Bare it is, then.” He guided his cock to Castiel’s hole and paused, letting Castiel take control and impale himself. Castiel’s mouth dropped wide open as he sank down.

“Oh – oh my – _wow_.” Castiel gulped in a large lungful of air that he probably didn’t even need. “I’ve never – felt –”

“Move and you’ll feel even better,” Dean said, his fingers resting on Castiel’s glorious hipbones that he hadn’t had a proper chance to worship. Slowly, Castiel struck up a rhythm, and it was absolutely surreal to see the normally composed angel reduced to gasping and shivering…but something was missing.

“Dean – I –”

“Hold up, Cas,” Dean said. Castiel immediately stilled.

“Did I hurt you?” he babbled, eyes poring over Dean’s face. “I just – it feels so good –”

“No, you’re just fine. Just lemme –” Dean struggled to sit up, Castiel still sitting on his cock, and then shuffled back so that the pillows behind him would support him. In this position, he could rest his chin on Castiel’s shoulder and feel Castiel’s hot skin against his, and there was a closeness to this position that hadn’t been present in the previous one – not that the previous one had been bad or anything. Hell, any position with Castiel couldn’t possibly be anything less than spectacular. _Anything_ to do with sex when it came to Castiel could only be mind-blowing.

“Oh.” Castiel gyrated his hips, then shivered and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. “I – this is so – so _intimate_ –”

“I’m a slut for cuddles and affection,” Dean said. “Sue me. But you tell anyone, I’ll end you myself.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s not considered socially appropriate to describe one’s sexual encounters to other people,” Castiel said, now moving at a faster pace. Before Dean could reply to that, Castiel stiffened and let out a choked gasp. “Oh – _there_ –”

“Let go, Cas.” Dean ran his hands down Castiel’s sides. “Less talkin’, more thrustin’. If you can think clearly enough to talk properly, you’re not doin’ it right.”

Having Castiel around his cock was…indescribable. How could Dean even begin to express how otherworldly that velvety heat was? How could he find the words to even come close to describing how it felt to hold Castiel in his arms, to kiss and kiss until he couldn’t breathe and then kiss some more, to actually be doing this with someone he _loved_? It hadn’t ever felt like this before. Sex to get off was nice, yeah, but this was just…unbelievable. Dean was certain he could just live off the air from Castiel’s lungs if needed, because this was a moment he never wanted to end.

Finally, Castiel stiffened, and his back arched, and his head tipped back as he came between them, smearing sticky white fluid between their torsos. Dean latched onto his neck and nipped while he cried out and spasmed, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders, and when his body slackened and fell back, Dean grabbed him and held him close.

“Hold on,” Dean said into his ear. Before Castiel could even begin to think about reacting, Dean fell back, cradling Castiel to him, and then rolled them over so that Castiel could sag against the mattress, let his legs fall apart with gravity, and not have to do any more of the work. He’d had his control, but Dean didn’t want to make the exhausted angel work for an orgasm that wasn’t even his. “This alright? Not too sensitive?”

“No…keep going…” Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut, his hands weakly fumbling for Dean’s as Dean grunted and thrust frantically into him, chasing that heat that was still just eluding his grasp. Gasping, Dean leaned down and crushed his lips to Castiel’s, who tried to reciprocate but ended up being too tired to do anything except let Dean get off.

Finally coming was just…wow. The actual orgasm itself wasn’t anything special, but it was the way he was buried in Castiel’s warm body and the way he cried out into Castiel’s mouth as he emptied himself inside Castiel that made him feel like he was flying so high that he could touch the clouds, to use an utter freaking cliché. His limbs turning to jelly, Dean had just enough strength left in him to pull out and collapse to the side, panting and resting a leaden arm over Castiel’s sticky belly.

The room was full of nothing but panting for the next few minutes as both men recovered. Finally, Castiel had mustered up enough energy to push Dean onto his back and snuggle up to his side, smearing his come all along Dean’s hip and ribs as he rested his head straight over Dean’s heart.

“Gross,” Dean said with a breathless laugh, tugging the covers up over their legs and waists. “Forgot how disgusting this shit is.”

The mess vanished in an instant. Castiel just smiled when Dean squinted at him.

“I’ll let ya off this time ‘cause that was fuckin’ amazing.” Dean poked Castiel in the ribs, smirking when Castiel doubled over and tried to pull away. “But don’t get used to that. Humans have to actually put in effort.”

“But the sex itself was such an effort,” Castiel complained, tangling his legs with Dean’s. “That seems rather unfair.”

“That’s life. We don’t have fancy angel mojo like you.”

“Mmm.”

They were silent for a little while, indulging in their usual cuddling habits: Castiel drawing random shapes on Dean’s chest, Dean stroking Castiel’s hair. Dean was starting to suspect that Castiel had a heartbeat thing, because the angel’s eyes had slid shut and he seemed to push on Dean’s skin slightly with each beat while tracing.

“So how was that as first times go?” Dean said.

“I wouldn’t know. How did my first time go in the other timeline?”

The image of Cas’ dead body sagged in that armchair flashed before Dean’s eyes. He swallowed and held Castiel tighter. “Reaper bitch who manipulated you with food and shelter, then killed you.”

“Then I’d say that this was infinitely better.” His eyes open, Castiel leaned up to kiss Dean. “Put that behind you, Dean. It didn’t happen this time. Whatever those events were, you won’t let them come to pass. And I must say, emotional sex with you is far preferable to a one-night stand for survival.”

“But – I can’t,” Dean mumbled. “My fault. If I hadn’t talked to you like shit, you wouldn’t’ve been so eager to make me happy and that dickbag Metatron wouldn’t have manipulated you to –”

“Metatron? The Scribe of God? He hasn’t been seen in centuries.”

“Yeah, we found him. Don’t trust him. He’s a colossal bag of dicks.”

Castiel twisted so that he was lying half-on top of Dean, still on Dean’s side. His piercing eyes were such a beautiful, startling blue that Dean blurted out, “I need you and it fucking terrifies me how much,” before he could even exert any control over his mouth. Panic started to blossom inside him, but the brilliant smile that spread across Castiel’s face went a long way to squashing that building terror.

“I love you too.” Castiel rested his chin on Dean’s pec, and why the hell wasn’t Dean surprised that Castiel had immediately picked up the subtext behind that word? “And you have to stop blaming yourself for however you may have treated the other me. _I’m_ here and you haven’t ever turned your back on me or left me behind. Are you happy here with me and this Sam and Bobby and others?”

“Of course,” Dean said immediately. He didn’t even need to think about it. “Never been happier. I mean it. And I think the other Sam and Cas would be happy for me too, so I…” He blinked in surprise as he admitted, “I don’t feel so guilty anymore. For leavin’ them behind and for bein’ happy with you and this Sam and everyone else.”

Castiel’s brilliant smile returned. Christ, Dean would take on the universe itself for that smile. He hadn’t ever seen Castiel this outwardly happy, which he was pretty sure was down to how he’d treated the other Castiel like some sort of disposable tool. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that here. No more ‘baby in a trench coat’ comments. No more only calling Castiel when the angel was needed. No more basically treating Castiel like an afterthought.

“Good.” Castiel wriggled back into his usual cuddling position. “Because I haven’t been happier in my many millennia of existence. And it makes me feel warm inside my vessel to know that you’re happy.”

Before Dean could turn into a giant puddle of sap, the doorknob clattered. Dean had a brief moment of panic as the door began to open – what the hell would Sam think, seeing them cuddling after very obviously having slept together? – but before he could freak out, Sam was in the room and closing the door. Their eyes met.

“Not when I’m around.” Sam held up a stern finger. “I’m already dealing with Lucifer stalking me in my head. I don’t need you two assholes making… _those_ noises.”

Dean grinned widely. There was a huge difference between the theoretical acceptance Sam had given before and actually having someone accept you after having sex with your – boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Shit, Dean didn’t even know or care at the moment.

“Of course, Sam,” Castiel said immediately. “We will respect your desire to not see us engaged in intercourse.”

“Uh…thanks,” Sam said slowly. “Just don’t ever say that again.”

“Did I tell you about that awesome thing Cas does with his tongue?” Dean said brightly.

“What? Gross!” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Seriously, Dean, I’m super happy for you and all, but I _will_ make your life miserable if you make mine hell.”

“Deal.” Oh well, he’d just have to find other ways of tormenting Sam, because having his brother’s acceptance of something like this was too crucial to pass up. “I’m hittin’ the hay. Remember what I said, Cas – no flapping off till I wake up. Capiche?”

“I capiche.” Castiel gave Dean a quick kiss. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Gag me with a spoon,” Sam muttered, flopping face-down on the other bed. Dean cheerfully flipped him off in response.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Assuming it’s like last time, there’ll be humans all the way up,” Dean said, squinting at the Niveus Pharmaceutical building. “The demons’ll be up top. We just need to get inside, then we can ride on up.”

“How did you get in last time?” Anna said.

“Crowley teleported in, killed the security guard, then let us in.”

“…Yeah, no.” Sam wrinkled his nose. “No way. We’re finding a back way in.”

“And sneakin’ all the way up to the top?” Bobby said. “Yeah, ‘cause we’ll get that lucky.”

“Oh, and I s’pose you’ve got a better idea?” Dean said. “No? I didn’t think so. There’s no point dressing up as a guard or anything – and, knowing our luck, Brady’ll know we’re there as soon as we set foot in the place. We’ll sneak in, knock out any humans we come across, and try to take the son of a bitch out. No point tryin’ to get Pestilence’s location from him.”

“Why?” Sam said. “If he knows where Pestilence is –”

“He won’t tell. Trust me. We got him to spill last time, but only ‘cause Crowley managed to spread the rumour that he and Brady were butt buddies against Lucifer, so Brady told us if we killed him quickly. No chance of that happening now. Plus, I don’t wanna work with that greasy bastard more than I can help it.”

“Shoulda brought in backup,” Bobby said. “Ya really think the four of us can pull this off?”

“Hey, I got in by myself last time,” Dean said. “Except for Crowley popping around. And we’re not callin’ in any other hunters.”

“Ya know Jo and Ellen would –”

“Don’t go there,” Dean said sharply, trying furiously not to remember the image of Jo with her guts spilling out and Ellen pushing the detonator. Man, he still hadn’t had the courage to actually face them, even though there was no possible way they could know about the other timeline. “No. We’re enough. No one else needs to get hurt.”

“So basically, our plan is to run in and hope we don’t die,” Anna said. “Fantastic. If angelic missions were like this, they wouldn’t have survived a century.”

“Quit your bitchin’,” Dean said. “You got your grace for when you get stabbed in the gut. The rest of us puny humans have to bleed out.”

Anna rolled her eyes hard but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, let’s go,” Dean said. “Sam, you’re with me. Anna, Bobby, you stay put till we get the ground floor secured.”

Staying out of sight of the security cameras, Sam and Dean circled the massive building, testing every little inch for any possible way in. It took ten minutes, but Sam finally found a back door with only one security guard, and it was a simple matter to knock out and disarm the human. There was a total of three other guards on the ground floor, who were also easily dispatched, and Sam went to open the front doors while Dean piled the unconscious bodies behind the front counter.

“Is that seriously the best hiding place you can think of?” Anna said, one red eyebrow raised.

“Are you the one with the plan?” Dean said. “Zip it. Doesn’t even matter.”

The elevator ride up went without a hitch. So naturally, that meant that this plan was going to turn into an absolute dumpster fire. But they couldn’t exactly turn back now. They needed to take Brady and Niveus out before they started distributing the Croatoan virus, or it wouldn’t matter if they could ice the Devil or not.

The minute the elevator doors dinged open, the group of four was confronted with three demons. Sam and Anna easily dispatched them with the demon-killing knife and angel blade, and then they crept down the hall as quietly as humanly possible, even though it was impossible for Brady to have missed that commotion. Almost like the universe hated Dean personally, the door at the end of the hall swung open and they were greeted by Brady and his insufferable smile. Next to Dean, Sam stiffened.

“Well, well,” he said. “Isn’t this a surprise? Sam, I haven’t seen you in…gosh, it must be years.”

“Quit the games,” Sam snarled. Great. If he lost his temper, this could easily go to shit.

“If you insist.” Brady blinked, flashing black eyes, and then he gestured to his door. “Please come in. Take a seat. Sorry I don’t have any refreshments to offer, but this was kind of a surprise visit.”

The back of Dean’s neck crawled, alerting him to the presence of more demons behind them. Seeing no other option for the time being, he forced a smile on his face and played along. “Awfully nice of you to see us at such short notice,” he said in a sickly-sweet voice, leading the way into Brady’s office.

“Well, I fancy myself a flexible person,” Brady said. “Rather like Jess, wouldn’t you say, Sam?”

Dean grabbed Sam’s arm to stop his brother from diving at Brady, while also scanning the entire office for any possible ways out once they iced him. “Just get to the point, man,” he said.

“With pleasure.” Brady nodded at Dean, who was promptly grabbed by a demon and had the Colt yanked from inside his jacket before he could even react. Another demon did the same to Sam, disarming him of the demon-killing knife and resting it against his collar.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered as the first demon presented the Colt to Brady. There went those options. Anna’s blade was still on the table, since Brady didn’t seem to have considered that she could have it, but the Colt was easily the best weapon of the lot.

“Rather beautiful workmanship, wouldn’t you say?” Brady said, pretending to admire the gun. “The perfect piece to hang on my wall. Along with your heads. Except for Sam, of course. He’s rather important.”

“You son of a bitch,” Sam hissed. “You – you introduced me to Jess!” He tried to lunge at Brady, but a demon grabbed him and tugged him back. “You’re the one who killed her! Just because I was done with hunting!”

Brady’s eyes gleamed as he appraised Sam. “Well, you _have_ heard things, haven’t you?” he said to Dean. “The rumours are true. And I bet if I’m the one to peel them out of you, I’ll be rewarded very handsomely.”

“Been there, done that, got the T-shirt,” Dean said dismissively. “Good luck gettin’ me to break when even Alastair couldn’t.”

“We’ll see.” Brady turned back to Sam, grinning. “You know, Jess thought we were friends too. Let me right in. She was baking cookies!” He laughed. “She was so surprised…so hurt when I started in on her.”

With a bellow of rage, Sam headbutted the demon holding him and dived at Brady, only to be promptly intercepted by another demon. Swiftly taking advantage of this, Dean kicked his captor straight back into Anna, who smoothly stabbed him with her angel blade, and Bobby shot the demon with Ruby’s knife to stun her long enough for Dean to grab the knife and dispatch her.

“Uh, guys?” Anna shouted over the chaos of Sam yelling and grappling with the third demon. Dean swore loudly when five more demons ran into the room, all armed with wicked-looking knives.

“Great!” he said. With Bobby running a smokescreen with his gun, it was easy enough for Dean and Anna to take out the five demons, while Sam finally downed his demon and Anna turned to stab the son of a bitch.

“Nice work,” Brady said, clapping mockingly. “But there are plenty more where they came from.”

Sure enough, another fifteen demons swarmed into the room and surrounded Sam, Dean, Anna, and Bobby, vastly outnumbering them. Dean didn’t like their odds. Fifteen demons plus Brady was far too many for just the four of them to handle. Maybe he should’ve taken Bobby up on his advice about bringing back-up.

“You guys need to run,” Anna said calmly. The tone of her voice instantly clued Dean in to what she was going to do.

“You sure?” he said. “We can fight.”

“There’s no way we’ll make it out alive,” Anna said. “Trust me, I don’t like it, but this is the only way. Go! And tell me when you’re clear.”

Sam, Dean, and Bobby hastened to obey when Anna lunged and took out three demons at once with a slash of her blade to clear a path. Dean slammed the door shut behind them when they made it out into the hall; just in time, as a blinding white light radiated from behind the door.

“C’mon, go, go,” Dean muttered, jabbing the elevator button over and over until the doors opened. The ride back down to the ground floor seemed to take forever, and as soon as they were out and dashing out the doors, Dean grabbed his phone to call Anna. It went to voicemail, but it was enough of a signal that they were clear and she could do her thing.

For a minute, nothing happened. Then, in the blink of an eye, the massive building exploded in blinding white light, and Dean hissed and squeezed his eyes shut to avoid losing his vision for good. He kind of needed to be able to see to be able to hunt. And he wasn’t sure if angel-burning could be healed.

“Holy shit…” Sam murmured. Dean rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly to try and dispel the white spots dancing in his vision, and his jaw nearly dropped when he saw the scene before him. Niveus was…gone. Not a trace of it remained. Like it never existed.

“We might want to hightail it out of here before the angels catch up,” Anna said from behind them. Dean jumped and whirled around. Shit, she looked…different. Her body still looked the same as always, but she now carried herself with that familiar poise that all angels possessed. “They’re not gonna ignore such a large flare of grace like that. They’ll know I took it back.”

“Right.” Dean shook his head. “Car. Now. Can’t you just flap yourself out?”

“I don’t want to,” Anna said, grimacing and looking over her shoulder at thin air. “I’d prefer not to if I can help it.”

Once in Baby, Dean put his lead foot down and they roared away from the scene of the crime as fast as the car would go.

“Uh, Anna?” Bobby said. “Please tell me ya saved those poor human schmucks inside. Woulda been a waste of time to knock ‘em out.”

“I did,” Anna said. “I flew every human in there a few miles away after Dean prayed to me. Humans are safe and no more Croatoan.”

“Good,” Sam said, relaxing in his seat.

“I hate this.” Anna’s mouth twisted. “I feel like a dick again. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen, but I kind of suspected it might.”

“Well, we can just take your grace back out next time we run into Cas,” Dean said. “You can just cut it out of your throat with an angel blade. We’d need him to heal you.”

“Except for the part where Cas is cut off from Heaven,” Anna said. “He’s falling, remember? Healing’s not part of the package anymore.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, because he _had_ forgotten. “Uh, can you deal with it?”

“I’ll have to,” Anna said. “I’ll just make myself useful and go look for Famine and Pestilence. No use sitting around and complaining when I’ve got the power to help.”

“I mean, it doesn’t matter whether you’re useful or not, but that’d be good,” Dean said. “Call if you find anything. And don’t worry too much if you can’t find Famine, ‘cause I know exactly where he’ll be on Valentine’s Day.”

“Do we want to know?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. “Unattached Drifter Christmas plus the personification of famine and hunger?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Famine told me that I was totally dead inside last time.” Dean jabbed a finger in Sam’s face.

“…That’s not a good thing, Dean.”

“Well, things are different now, ain’t they?” Bobby said. “Knowin’ ya luck, you’ll probably just hunger for Cas and eat him alive.”

Dean paused and blinked slowly. “Well, fuck me. You’re right.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“Wait, so you’re saying there’s an _antichrist_?” Sam spluttered as they pulled up to Jesse’s house. “I didn’t –”

“Know it existed?” Dean said. “Yeah, same here till I met the kid. Virgin mother possessed by a demon for nine months.”

Sam looked sick to his stomach.

“He’s a good kid,” Dean continued. “But he doesn’t even realise he’s got powers. So far as I remember, he was told all these stories – like itching powder makes you scratch your brain out – and they came true ‘cause he thought they were true.”

“Uh…okay. So we’re here to, what, make sure he doesn’t go dark side or something?”

“Sorta.” Dean got out of the car and closed his door, Sam not far behind. “He never went dark side last time. I just wanna make sure he’s okay before his demon parent finds him. If he keeps this shit up, it’ll be a miracle if no one does find him.”

Sam was quiet all the way up to the farmhouse. Before Dean could even knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a kid that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Can I help you?” Jesse said.

“Actually, we’re hopin’ we can help you,” Dean said. “Mind if we come in?”

“Why?” Jesse’s suspicious eyes flicked between Sam and Dean. “Who are you two?”

“Just let us in and we’ll explain, alright?” Dean held his hands up reassuringly. “Just not out here. Don’t wanna be overheard.”

The look on Jesse’s face shifted from “yeah right, bullshit” to intrigue, then back. Eventually, the intrigue won out and he stepped aside to let Sam and Dean inside.

“Your parents around?” Dean said.

“No. Work.” Jesse led them to the living room and then pointed at the couch. “Sit. Talk. Why are you here?”

Once he was seated with Sam, Dean took a deep breath, trying to figure out what angle to tackle this from. “Look, this is gonna sound like bullshit,” he finally said. “But monsters exist. Don’t interrupt, okay?” he said before Jesse could proclaim rubbish and throw him out. “Vampires. Werewolves. The usual schtick. My brother and I hunt them down.”

“Uh…”

“And you?” Dean looked Jesse straight in the eye. “Your parents aren’t your real parents. Your – your dad’s a demon.”

There was a long silence, only broken by Jesse bursting into laughter. “How dumb do you think I am?” he said. “Demons? Monsters? Is this some sort of a joke? Who put you up to it?”

“No one!” Sam jumped up, hands raised. “Jesse, we swear, we’re telling you the truth –”

“Get out.”

“Jesse –”

“I said, get _out_!”

And get out they did. One minute they were in the living room…and the next, they were back in the Impala, blinking and looking around.

“Uh…well, he’s definitely powerful,” Sam said slowly. “You weren’t kidding about that. So, what do we do now?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Try and get through to him again. He only believed us last time ‘cause a demon showed up, but we can’t let that happen. That kid deserves to not have to go on the run again.”

Before Sam could no doubt ask what the heck Dean meant by that, someone tapped on Dean’s window. He jumped and whirled, but it was just Jesse, staring at them with wide eyes. The kid stepped back to allow Dean to open the door and get back out of the car.

“Did –” Jesse looked from Dean to Sam, then back at Dean. “Did _I_ do that?

Dean nodded back up at the house. Taking the hint, Jesse led them up and let them back inside.

“You said I’m half-demon,” Jesse said, slumping in an armchair. When Dean nodded, Jesse just nodded back, though something familiar flickered in his eyes. “Am I – are you here to hunt me?”

“No,” Dean said straight away. “‘Cause you’re not a monster. Monsters hurt people. You don’t.”

“But I’m half-demon,” Jesse said. He didn’t meet either of their eyes. “You said so. Doesn’t that mean I will? You’re here to make sure I don’t, right?”

“Yeah, we’re here to make sure you don’t hurt anyone,” Dean said. “But that doesn’t mean hunting you. Just because you’re half-demon doesn’t mean you’re bad. You got that?”

“But…”

“My brother?” Dean nodded at Sam. “He’s got demon blood in him. The demons wanted to use him and his powers to free Lu – someone. I went to Hell and nearly became a demon. Hell, I _was_ a demon at one point, until I was fixed. But that doesn’t make us bad people. What matters is what choice you make.”

Jesse frowned, but he didn’t look as distraught as before. Dean could almost literally feel Sam’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“You ever read _Harry Potter_?” Dean said. “Remember what Dumbledore said? Your choices matter more than what you can do. You’re – you’re like Harry, yeah? You got this power that _could_ be dark, but only if you use it that way.”

“Right! Being half-demon doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Sam said. “You’re half-human too. We’ve all got a choice. I – well, I could’ve used my powers for the wrong side. I nearly did. But Dean…pulled me back from that. We just don’t want you to do what I nearly did.”

“How did you even find me?” Jesse mumbled. The fight had drained out of him, leaving him limp in his seat.

“I know things,” Dean said. “Trust me, I’ve pissed everyone off ‘cause I know things I shouldn’t. Even been tortured for it. I know who your real mom is too. We can take you to see her once this Heaven v. Hell war’s over,” he added when Jesse’s head whipped up. “Just not now, yeah? Don’t wanna draw attention to her or you.”

“War? What war? Heaven and Hell?” Jesse’s mouth dropped. “Oh. You – you want me to fight in the war? For Heaven?”

“Pfft,” Dean scoffed. “Heaven’s just as assholish as Hell is. Both want to wreck the world, so we’re fighting against both sides. No, we want to keep you out of the war if that’s what you want. Just so long as you keep a tight check on your powers, you shouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.”

“Don’t I need to train them? I didn’t even know I had powers!”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. Now that you know about ‘em, you should be able to at least stop yourself from being found if you don’t wanna. That’s why we’re here. If you wanna fight, cool. That’s your choice. We just wanted to tell you before you accidentally attracted angels and demons and then bam, there goes your life.”

“I don’t.” Jesse cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I don’t. I just want to be left alone.”

“Good.” Dean gave Jesse a small smile. “I thought so. That’s what we wanted as well. No kid should have to fight in the Apocalypse. Look, we’ll leave our number with you, okay? Just so you can call if you ever need us. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” Jesse mumbled.

* * *

Dean could feel Sam’s burning questions hovering in the air between them, like an intangible cloud unable to be ignored. To Sam’s credit, though, he only lasted an hour into the drive to Elk Creek before finally snapping.

“Dean, what did you mean about being a demon?” he said.

“There we go,” Dean said. “I’m proud of ya, Sammy. Only took you an hour.”

Sam shot him a particularly nasty bitchface. “I’m serious, Dean! You – how the hell are you still you if you were a demon?”

“Demon cure. How else?”

“I –” Sam closed his eyes, then opened them. “Right. Of course. What else could it be?”

Dean jabbed a finger at Sam. “See, now you’re getting it. If something sounds like bullshit, it's probably not.”

“How did – wait, no, that’s beside the point. How the hell did you become a demon? Did you – what, did you go to Hell again? Make another deal?”

“Sam, what kinda idiot do you take me for?” Dean said. “I might be an oblivious one but I’m not boring. I like to change it up. Why do the same thing twice?”

“God help me,” Sam muttered.

“Don’t think he’ll be much help. Look, Sam, I just made a stupid decision to get rid of another demon out for our blood and ended up payin’ for it, okay? And other you wouldn’t let things be. Chased me down, tied me down – kinky, by the way, never knew that was your thing – and cured me. Oh, and Cas got involved when I tried to brain you with a hammer.”

“Of course I wouldn’t give up on you,” Sam said immediately. “Especially if you were a demon and I could cure you. How does that even work, anyway?”

“Flu shots,” Dean said so seriously that Sam just blinked at him.

“Dean, I’m serious. That could be helpful to us one day!”

“No, I’m serious. Give ‘em nice little shots and burn the demon out.”

“Shots of _what_?”

“Human blood.”

Sam spluttered, unable to form a sentence. Smirking, Dean took pity and elaborated for him.

“Find some holy ground, shove the demon there, then go talk to a priest and confess your sins to purify your blood. Then you just gotta give the demon a shot every hour for eight hours, then cut your palm and say some Latin bullshit and make them drink that blood. Works like a charm. Really painful, though, which makes sense since you’re burning the demon outta them with purity.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long while. Satisfied that the conversation was over, Dean reached out to turn some _Led Zeppelin_ on and break the oppressive silence in the car.

“How did it feel?” Sam said suddenly.

“Painful. I told ya.”

“No, not the cure. I mean…being a demon. Did you feel – what, empty? Angry? Hateful?”

“What is this, sharing and caring?” Dean muttered. “I don’t exactly like to talk about the time I became a homicidal madman and nearly bashed my brother’s brains out.”

Sam’s face fell. “Oh. No. I just…I was curious. Sorry, I didn’t think about that. How exactly did you find out about the demon cure?” he added before Dean could try and make him feel better.

“Just…a friend,” Dean said. Yeah, if friend meant your time-travelling grandpa who accidentally skipped out on your dad and gave him a fuck-tonne of daddy issues that he in turn gave to his own kids. “Well, not him specifically, but he had connections. And that’s all I feel like sayin’.”

“Right, okay.” Good thing Sam could recognise a lost cause in trying to force Dean to talk when Dean really didn’t want to. “Hey, do you really think it’s a good idea to go see this Julia?”

“Yeah, why not? We gotta make sure she’s not possessed or anything.”

“Well, from what you told me, she didn’t get possessed till after we went to see her. What if they’re keeping an eye on her or something? They wouldn’t just let something as important as a super-powerful cambion go. We go see her, that’s an instant red flag that we’re on Jesse’s case, right?”

Dean swore under his breath. Shit, of course Sam was right. He hadn’t even considered that going to see Julia might end up getting her possessed in the first place.

“From the sounds of it, she was doing just fine without an anti-possession charm before,” Sam said. “The demons wouldn’t risk playing their hand if they weren’t guaranteed to find Jesse, right? ‘Cause then we’d hear about it and be right on their tail. I don’t exactly think they’re counting the possibility of a time-traveller ruining their plans.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean said heavily. “Alright, I never thought I’d get to say this, but I’m gonna turn this car right around and go home, mister.”

Sam didn’t stop laughing for at least five minutes.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Smut right at the end. Not nearly as in-depth as the other scenes, but it’s still there. This is mostly just a feels-jerker.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“I have it.”

“Jesus!” Dean nearly fell off the shitty motel bed he was lying on. “Warn a guy, Cas!”

“My apologies.”

Dean grinned at Castiel. “Don’t worry about it. Just quit sneakin’ up on me like that. I’m gonna have a heart attack one of these days.”

“I highly doubt that a fright would induce a heart attack,” Castiel said matter-of-factly, sitting down on the bed next to Dean. “Though with the amount of greasy foods you eat, that probably wouldn’t be so impossible.”

“Excuse me?” Dean rested a hand on his heart, mock-wounded. “You pickin’ on what I eat?”

 “No.” Castiel’s lips twitched, betraying him. “But your arteries are. I’ve been cleaning them out whenever I heal you.”

Dean wanted to poke fun at Castiel for that, but the truth was that Castiel looking out for him in even that small way made his stomach flutter with an emotion that absolutely terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

“Uh…thanks.” Dean sat up and kissed Castiel on the cheek. “What’d you get?”

In response, Castiel held out a long, thin object wrapped in white cloth. “The Rod of Aaron. It wasn’t easy, but I found it in a cache of magical artefacts. There were…very strong protections. I nearly got ejected from my vessel at one point.”

“Shit – you okay?” Dean ran his hands over Castiel’s shoulders and chest, as though reassuring himself that the angel was there and safe and whole. Castiel was warm and soft and _there_ , and it made something terrifying but heavenly flutter in Dean’s chest to feel this, especially since this was the first he’d seen of Castiel in months.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said. He stood up to place the Rod on the small table in the room, which looked like it was going to just collapse in on itself any second now. When he turned back to Dean, he looked around the room with a small frown. “There’s only one bed. Where are Sam and Anna?”

“Separate cases,” Dean said. “What looked like two shit-easy salt and burns, so Sam and I agreed to tackle one each. And Anna…well, she kinda had to take her grace back so we could get outta Niveus when that went sideways. But hey, no more Croatoan! And she’s gone off lookin’ for Famine and Pestilence now so she can feel like she’s doin’ something.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Castiel looked like he was about two seconds from breaking out the ice cream and chick flicks, which was so unlike him that Dean was up and with him in a heartbeat.

“What’s up?” Dean said, leading Castiel back to the bed by the hand. He positioned himself against the headboard and pulled Castiel between his legs, so that Castiel’s back was to his chest.

“The ceiling. The sky. Many things are up.”

Dean snorted loudly and kissed Castiel on the nape of the neck, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s stomach in the process. “No – I mean – what’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna turn on the waterworks. Your face just, like…fell.”

Apparently, that was the wrong choice of words, because Castiel’s body stiffened and he drew in a shuddering breath. “I – I’m falling at such a fast rate,” he said, voice hitching. “I’m having trouble with so many tasks that require my grace. I can’t heal – I can’t smite demons – and I don’t know when I’ll lose all of my powers –”

“I’m sorry.” Dean buried his face in Castiel’s hair. “I’m sorry. I knew how much it hurt you last time and I – I still pushed you to do it –”

“I still made that choice,” Castiel said. “Please don’t blame yourself. I just…” He took a deep breath, his head bowing. “I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. If I’m truly on the right path or – or if I’m just making it all _worse_ –”

“Hey.” Dean gently guided Castiel’s head around so he could kiss the angel. “Hey. I get it’s hard. I mean, I dealt with my own shit with wondering if I was doin’ the right thing and if Dad really knew best. Still do. And I’ve made some real shitty decisions. But…I mean, so long as you’re makin’ your own decisions, that’s what’s important. ‘Cause I know you and what you can do and hey, even though you’ve fucked up loads of times, you _always_ did what you thought was right. That’s what free will’s about, right?”

Castiel didn’t speak for a long moment. “Sometimes I wonder about that,” he murmured. “Yes, I’m choosing my own path, but…you were the catalyst for that. And sometimes I wonder if that means that I’m truly exercising free will, even though you know the future and what’s the right thing to do. And to hear that I’ve made bad decisions in the other timeline…”

Something mildly nauseating bubbled in Dean’s stomach. “Christ, I feel just as guilty this time around. I mean, _I’m_ the one who told you to fuck the other angels off and follow your own path and shit. And you did it both times around. I just…I dunno. You say I’m the catalyst or whatever and you just – I don’t deserve your faith. I don’t deserve _you_.”

Before Dean could get much further in his pity party, Castiel wriggled and shuffled around so that he was kneeling between Dean’s legs. Dean gulped. The fire in Castiel’s bright blue eyes was far from the kind of fire he wanted to see.

“Don’t –” Castiel grabbed handfuls of Dean’s shirt and dragged him up until their foreheads knocked together. “Don’t you _dare_ claim that you are undeserving of me. I – if anything, _I’m_ unworthy of _you_.”

“What?” Dean scoffed, reaching out to rest his hands on Castiel’s hips. “Did someone knock you over the head or somethin’? I’ve done shit, man. I broke in Hell – I became a demon ‘cause I didn’t stop and think for two seconds that maybe there’d be a price to pay for the power I needed – I got Sam possessed by an angel against his will just ‘cause I couldn’t handle losing him – Cas, I’ve used you and ditched you and abused you so goddamn much –”

“What did I say about clean slates?” Castiel’s eyes seemed to scorch Dean’s very soul. “None of that matters to me. I’m not that Castiel. What I _do_ know is that you’ve supported me – you saved me from Alastair – you’ve treated me like _family_ when my brethren wouldn’t –”

“Cas –” Dean tried to look away, but Castiel’s eyes were mesmerising and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the bright blue. “You wouldn’t – if you knew the shit I’ve done –”

Rather than argue with him verbally, Castiel just leaned in and kissed the words right out of Dean’s mouth. With a soft groan, Dean reached up to thread his fingers through Castiel’s hair, and his eyes fluttered shut to try and comprehend the whirl of sensations flooding through him from just a kiss. Sex with Castiel was nice, but…just sitting here kissing him was enough to satisfy him, if he was honest. Unlike with other people – like Lisa – he didn’t _need_ to constantly sex Castiel up to seek the affection and validation and companionship that he could get from just being in the angel’s presence.

Holy shit, he was head over heels for Castiel, and it was goddamn terrifying.

As the minutes slowly ticked by, Dean ended up slumped on his back, Castiel stretched out on top of him with his tongue licking into Dean’s mouth like he was some sort of an expert at making out just because he’d slept with Dean a few times. Honestly, though, Castiel could be the worst kisser in the world and Dean would’ve been content with him. Being an amazing kisser was just a bonus…or maybe Dean was biased.

Okay, so he _was_ biased. But that didn’t mean Castiel wasn’t an awesome kisser.

When Castiel finally pulled away to end their impromptu make-out session, Dean’s chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe fast enough to keep up with his racing heart. His dick was half-hard in his jeans, but mostly from the physical sensations of having Castiel on top of him and between his legs. He wasn’t actually aroused, something he was dazedly surprised by.

“Wow…” Dean slumped against the pillows and touched his lips absently. “Who the fuck taught you to kiss like that? I gotta send ‘em a fruit basket.”

“I didn’t know you liked fruit,” Castiel said, a tiny smile touching the corner of his mouth. “I heard you labelling them as ‘rabbit food’ to Sam once.”

“Smartass,” Dean muttered, though with a small grin. Before Castiel could retort, Dean ruined the moment by letting out a long yawn and rubbing his eyes.

“Sleep.” Immediately, Castiel rolled off Dean and pulled Dean to cuddle into his side. “You should rest. I promise I’ll stay until you wake up.”

“Dunno why you stick around,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s shirt. “Not worth it.”

Castiel snarled. When Dean looked up in alarm, he was swiftly pulled into a blazing kiss that burned his lips and set fire to his insides and if he didn’t know that Castiel was having grace problems, he might have thought the angel was gracing him up, what with how searing the kiss was.

“You will _always_ be worth it,” Castiel growled against his lips. “I wouldn’t have listened to you and disobeyed on the mere _chance_ of doing the right thing and stopping the Apocalypse if you weren’t.”

“Cas –” Dean tried to keep his voice even, but it ended up choked. Castiel’s face softened.

“Sleep, Dean.” He began to gently scritch the hair on the back of Dean’s neck. The sensation was soothing and repetitive, and Dean soon found himself drifting off against his will, surrounded by the warmth and crisp smell of Castiel.

* * *

_The trench coat, stained black with Leviathan gunk, floating on the bank of the reservoir. Dean picked it up, something inside him hollow and empty, and he realised –_

_He loved Cas. He was in love with the dorky angel. The dorky angel who – who’d just imploded. So…now Cas was gone. For good, right? No way could anyone come back from that._

_“Dean?”_

_Dean whirled, filthy trench coat clutched tight to his chest. “C-Cas?” he stammered. This wasn’t right. Cas had just died. How could he be back? Unless –_

_It wasn’t dream Cas. It was real Castiel. But why was Castiel in his dreams?_

“What’s going on?” Castiel zeroed in on the trench coat in Dean’s arms. “I – is that mine? What happened?”

“Somethin’ that won’t happen this time around,” Dean snapped, turning and tossing the trench coat back in the water. It just drifted back to the shore, bobbing in the darkened water.

“Am I…was this my death?” Castiel said carefully. “Is this why you came back?”

“This?” Dean gave a harsh laugh. “Nah, this was far from your last time dyin’. This is –” He swallowed heavily, looking down at the muddy earth that his shoes were sinking into. “It’s when I first realised I fell for you,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” was all Castiel said. Dean chanced a peek back up at him and saw that he was frowning out at the reservoir. “What happened? How did I die…er, this time?”

“Leviathans.” Dean gave a dark little laugh and kicked the trench coat away but achieved nothing except further wetting his shoe. “You pulled a dumbass move and accidentally freed ‘em. But you did it for the right reasons. Think that’s why it finally sank in…how I felt about you.”

Castiel continued to frown out at the water, but there was an expression on his face that Dean couldn’t quite decipher. Before either of them could say anything, the dream shifted. Now they were in a barn, where Cas was slumped with black veins spreading up his chest from his bleeding abdomen, Dean was leaning over him, and Sam and Mary stood nearby.

“Cas, how bad is it?” dream Dean said.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Castiel said as dream Cas groaned and loosened his tie to display the spidery veins creeping up his neck. “What’s – what’s happening to me?”

“Crowley’s right,” dream Cas said. “You should go.”

“Cas, come on,” dream Dean said frantically.

“No –” Unable to look at dream Cas any longer, Dean turned away and bowed his head to hide his face. But that didn’t block out dream Cas’ speech; the one that still haunted him to this day.

“No, you listen to me. You – look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it…it’s been the best part of my life. And the things that –” Dream Cas took a sharp breath and coughed. “The things we’ve shared together, they’ve changed me. You’re my family. I love you.” He paused for a moment. Dean, heartbreakingly familiar with this, knew that dream Cas was looking right at dream Dean. “I love all of you. Just, please…please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

Dean jumped violently when arms slipped around his waist and warmth radiated across his front. His eyes snapped open to see Castiel hugging him, chin on his shoulder, and he let out a small, hysterical laugh and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck.

“I should’ve said it back,” he said shakily, squeezing Castiel tightly. “I should’ve – but I couldn’t – you were dying again and there was – I couldn’t _do_ anything –”

“Shh.” Castiel gently carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, letting Dean shake and hold off impending hysterics in his arms. “May I ask why Mary is there? She – she died.”

“Brought back,” Dean said into Castiel’s shoulder. In the background, he could dimly make out the dream speeches continuing, but he couldn’t focus enough to register what they were saying. “Don’t want to talk about her at the moment.”

His surroundings shifted again, this time into a generic diner that really could’ve been any diner anywhere in the country. With a shaky little laugh, Dean let go of Castiel and slid into a booth, the red vinyl crackling underneath him.

“Why do you dream about these moments?” Castiel said, sitting down across from Dean. “Can you just not control your dreams?”

“Nah. Could probably dream about somethin’ else if I wanted.”

“Then why –”

“Because it’s what I deserve, alright?” Dean slammed a fist on the table and looked down, shoulders slumping, so he wouldn’t have to look at Castiel. “I – I fucked the other Cas around for so damn long. Constantly screwed him over, and he kept comin’ back and giving everythin’ up for me and – and puttin’ his faith in me –” He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Dean -"

“So it’s my punishment. I can’t just pretend none of that shit ever happened to me just because I got it good now. And it’s not gonna happen again. But if I - if I ignore it...it feels like I'm disrespectin' him. Disrespecting everythin' he did - everythin' he gave up for me - and I'm over him, but I can't forget about him. I just _can't_. It's - after everything he's done and given up and kicked his way through - it's not fair I get another chance - with _you_ \- but he doesn't get another chance. With me.”

Castiel was silent for so long that Dean had to look up just to make sure that the angel hadn’t vanished on him. But no, Castiel was staring right back at him, head tilted and blue eyes squinting at him, lit up with an emotion that Dean couldn't decipher but that filled him with the unshakeable urge to cry. Which was fucked. Dean Winchester did  _not_ cry.

“Dean…” Castiel swallowed. “Is it possible for you to show me…my final death?”

Every muscle in Dean’s body stiffened. “I – no, you don’t need to see –”

“I do,” Castiel said firmly. “I need to see. I need to better understand you. And…I think you need the closure. You can’t keep punishing yourself for events that no longer exist.”

Dean rested his forehead on his forearms, burying his face in the cheap plastic table and trying desperately to hold himself together. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He was a sucker for self-flagellation, sure, but that was the one memory he’d painstakingly avoided and he – he just _couldn’t_ –

But Castiel was right. The guy deserved to know. And…maybe having Castiel with him would help him. Maybe it wouldn’t be as painful with the support. Decision made, he reluctantly looked up and met Castiel’s eyes, and then the scene shifted one more time. Rather than sitting in a diner booth, they were standing outside a cabin, an orange tear in space glowing vividly in the darkness.

“What’s going on?” Castiel said as dream Sam and dream Dean toppled out of the portal, swiftly followed by dream Cas. Dean just shook his head and made a move to turn away but forced himself to stop. He had to face this. Castiel deserved to know -  _Cas_ deserved to not be shoved aside like that - and Dean wasn’t just going to make Castiel watch his own death alone.

“Cas!” dream Sam said in relief. A moment later, the rift flared, and Dean’s lungs turned to icy steel when an angel blade plunged into dream Cas’ back from behind and his eyes, mouth, and chest lit up with brilliant white light.

“NO!” dream Dean bellowed as dream Cas’ corpse collapsed, revealing dream Lucifer behind him with a bloody angel blade.

“Oh,” Castiel breathed. Heart racing, Dean swallowed, and his eyes darted everywhere but the scene before him and Castiel next to him. Cas was dead – his corpse was there, in front of them, wings burned into the grass –

It wasn’t until someone grabbed his hands that Dean realised he wasn’t breathing. Sucking in gulps of air, he tried to force his vision to refocus, and he was rewarded with the sight of Castiel in front of him, blue eyes crinkled in sympathy but very much _alive_.

“Dean,” Castiel said firmly, squeezing his hands. Dean took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, but Castiel wasn’t having any of it. “Open your eyes, Dean.”

Reluctantly, Dean obeyed. He absently noticed that the dream had faded, replaced with a random highway and Baby next to them. Had his mind furiously scrambled for the most comforting setting it could conjure? If so, it succeeded; Baby was a sure-fire way to ground Dean.

“That’s why you acted so oddly after my resurrection when Alastair killed me,” Castiel said softly. “You – it reminded you of this.”

A loud sob escaped Dean before he could stop himself. Next thing he knew, he was clinging to Cas and breaking down loudly, dampening the cloth underneath his face with decades’ worth of pain and grief and suffering that were finally allowed to come tumbling out.

“I – all I do is – is cause you pain,” Dean choked out, grabbing fistfuls of the back of Castiel’s trench coat and tugging so hard he would’ve ripped the fabric if they were awake. “And – And suffering. And I – why do you stay with me when – I’m the worst thing –”

“No.” A soft kiss was pressed to Dean’s head and the arms around him tightened. Hazily, he realised that they’d sunk to the ground and he was losing his shit in Castiel’s lap. “You’re so, so far from the worst thing, Dean. All of this? Wiped clean.”

“No! I – it happened – I can’t just pretend –”

“I’m not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen.” Castiel started to stroke Dean’s hair. “But you can stop torturing yourself over it. Dean, you can’t take responsibility for what happened to the other me after he chose free will just as I did. You insist that I choose my own path, yet you take responsibility for anything bad that happens to me. It doesn’t work like that.”

Dean just sniffled. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in Castiel’s lap next to Baby. Instead, he was lying in bed cuddled up to Castiel, his body shaking and his cheeks damp. Fresh tears were falling, so he sniffled and wiped his face clean with his sleeve.

“Fuckin’ baby,” he said thickly.

“No.” Castiel leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re not weak for finally allowing yourself to process your emotions, Dean, especially since I doubt you would have been able to talk about that with anybody for the past year. And I want to thank you for trusting me enough to show me those memories. I apologise that I entered your mind without your permission but…you were in distress and I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Dean just shrugged, still working to get himself back under control.

“‘S whatever,” he mumbled, though he couldn’t deny that finally letting himself explode like that had taken a massive weight off his shoulders; one that he hadn’t even realised was there. On impulse, he rolled on top of Castiel and pressed their lips together furiously, cupping Castiel’s cheek while swiping his tongue across the seam of Castiel’s lips and then darting inside.

“Dean –”

“Need you.” Dean fumbled for the buttons of Castiel’s shirt. “Please. Just – need to – need to forget for a bit – remind myself you're here -”

Castiel’s face softened. “Of course, Dean. Whatever you want.”

They kept the foreplay brief – making out, slow-but-not-painfully-so undressing, Castiel coaxing Dean to full hardness with his mouth, quick but thorough prep work – and it wasn’t until Castiel was slowly sinking into Dean, holding himself up with trembling arms while Dean’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, that Dean was able to start to ground himself in his physical body. He no longer felt like he was floating just outside himself, observing from almost a third person perspective; the feeling of Castiel inside him was what he needed to anchor himself against the tide of past memories whirling in his head, trying to pull him back under.

“Dean…” Castiel breathed, drawing flush with the backs of Dean’s thighs. Out of nowhere, Dean realised that this was Castiel’s first time having a “proper” roll in the sack; that is, being the pitcher instead of the catcher. Hell, Dean had never been on the other end, and with the overwhelming mix of emotions coursing through him, he couldn’t imagine ever bottoming for anyone other than Castiel. Of course, he was intimately familiar with one-night-stands but having someone inside him wasn’t something he could do with just any random-ass Joe.

“Move,” Dean said, squeezing his eyes shut. Above him, Castiel lowered himself so that he was stretched out on top of Dean and could link their fingers together.

“Open your eyes, Dean.” Soft kisses were pressed to his eyelids. “I want to see you.”

Dean forced his eyes open and was rewarded with a small smile from the angel above him. He couldn’t help but grin back, and then Castiel was moving, rolling his hips slowly but deeply, brushing against Dean’s prostate with every thrust. How the hell had he found it so fast? Must have been some angel thing, or maybe that profound bond between them. Dean gasped and rocked back up into Castiel, moaning and whining every time his prostate was hit.

The pace remained gentle and deep, and no matter how much Dean might have been urging Castiel to speed up and really fuck him, he couldn’t deny to himself that this was exactly what he needed. Fuck, Castiel was _making love_ to him, and if Dean was in a better state of mind, he might have loudly protested and thrown a bitch fit about _feelings_ being involved. But he was a weak little shit right now, so he just laid back and let Castiel make love to him and allowed himself to actually _feel_ instead of just getting lost in the physical sensations.

“I’m here, Dean,” Castiel breathed against his lips, thrusting a little faster but not any rougher. “I won’t leave you again. I promise. I forgive you for everything that happened to the other me. Please stop torturing yourself over the past. None of that will ever come to pass.”

Fresh tears leaked out of Dean’s eyes and he let go of one of Castiel’s hands to swipe them away because goddammit, Dean Winchester did _not_ cry during sex. Who the hell was he? Sam?

Every thrust pushed Dean closer and closer to the edge; but, unlike the fast sex that always sent him hurtling over, this was a soft, gradual climb. And when Dean fell into the blissful heat, he couldn’t help but gasp, “Love you –” before moaning and arching his back, eyes fluttering shut and limbs growing leaden as the warmth enveloped them.

“I love you too, Dean.” Castiel kissed him, then seized up and groaned against Dean’s mouth as he came, and Dean shuddered at the feeling of wet warmth inside him but couldn’t find it in him to react much more than that because his head was whirling. Holy shit. He’d said the l-word. During _sex_ , no less. What the hell was happening to him? First, he broke down and let himself _feel_ , and now he was dropping the forbidden word and he just couldn’t –

Castiel pulled out and rolled off him, tugging him in close to nestle against the angel’s side in a reversal of their usual positions. Dean met his eyes, and what he saw behind the bright blue both awed and terrified the hell out of him.

“I love you too, Dean,” Castiel repeated. And, rather than letting himself keep freaking out, Dean just nodded and let himself soak in the afterglow of amazing sex and an emotional breakthrough.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> There’s no actual smut in this, mostly because I don’t want this to turn into a porno where they fuck every chapter (I’ve got my oneshots for the shameless sex lol), not that there’s anything wrong with chapters of smut. But there’s definitely suggestiveness and an afterglow.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“What? No. This is – no. You can’t –”

“Wow, Dean,” Jo Harvelle drawled. “Nice to see you too. I’ve sure missed you.”

“What the hell, Bobby?” Dean looked Bobby straight in the eye, but the older man didn’t budge.

“Ya wanna take on the Devil in Carthage, we need help,” he said with a shrug. “So, I brought in help.”

“But you –”

“Dean?” Fuck, that was Sam’s “I just figured something painful out about you and I’m going to be gentle and soothing so that I don’t scare you off” voice. “Did – did Ellen and Jo die last time? Because every time we bring them up, you get really defensive.”

“Last time?” Ellen said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t remember dying.”

Dean shot Sam the dirtiest look he could muster. “I’m from the future, alright?” he snapped. “2017. Sent back to deal with this burning trash heap. And yeah, you two fuckin’ died last time. Right in front of me. So forgive me for not wantin’ to involve you two in –”

“You’re a fucking moron, Dean,” Jo said, crossing her arms, and oh god, Dean had missed her and her attitude so much. “Quit being a martyr. We won’t die this time.” She blinked and shook her head, while Anna snorted behind her hand. “This time…wait, you’re really from the future?”

“How shit did things have to get for you to come back?” Ellen said, eyes crinkled in sympathy. Dean looked away. Why was everyone so sympathetic when he didn’t deserve it? And why did they just believe him instead of questioning him and calling him insane? Maybe it was because Sam, Anna, and Bobby were going along with it. Or maybe they did think he was insane and were just waiting until after the attack on the Devil to say so.

“Real shit,” he said. “Put it this way: there’s a reason I’m anglin’ to kill Lucifer and not just lock him back up. And with this Hand of God, we should be able to do that. We’ll just need Cas or Anna to use it ‘cause otherwise the power’ll blow up any human who uses it.”

“How did he even get back out?” Anna said. “I’ve been meaning to ask. The seals were the only way to open the Cage –”

“Some spell book,” Dean said. “Had a spell to summon him to another temporary cage in Hell. We – well, Sam…needed info from him about…something. Then Ca – someone made a stupid move and said yes, so he had a vessel he could ride outta there –”

“I have the Lance,” Castiel announced from behind Dean. “Gabriel helped locate this, but he was adamant about not being involved any further.”

Dean jumped about a foot in the air. “But you still don’t have any warning,” he snapped.

“My apologies.” Castiel laid an unpleasantly familiar lance down and then narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You were saying something about Lucifer possessing someone to get out of Hell again. And I’m certain you were going to say my name.”

“Cas –”

“Was it me, Dean? Was I the one who let Lucifer back out?”

Dean opened his mouth to say no, but Castiel’s blue eyes bored straight through his skin and into his soul. What came out instead was, “Y-Yeah.” His heart sank when Castiel’s whole face contorted, and he hastened to add, “Only ‘cause I treated you like shit and you thought you were useless and that was the only you could help against Am – against the big bad then.”

“That doesn’t –” Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That hasn’t happened. It won’t happen.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quickly. “Yeah, it won’t. So don’t beat yourself up over it. We’ll gank the Devil now and it won’t ever get to that point.”

“If you’re done with the pity party,” Ellen said, “how about you put that ‘future knowledge’ of yours to good use and tell us what the plan is?”

“No splitting up this time,” Dean said immediately. “I know where he’ll be in Carthage, so we don’t need to split up to find him. And we’ll – we’ll have glasses scorched with holy fire. So we can see the hellhounds.”

“ _Hellhounds_?” Sam’s eyes bulged, then darted to Ellen and Jo. “Oh god. Dean –”

“Right,” Dean said loudly, grabbing the Lance. It thrummed with power under his touch. “One of us just needs to graze him with this and it’ll slowly make him rot from the inside out. Yes, I’ve seen it work, no, it’s not pretty –”

“Doesn’t sound like it was very fun last time,” Claire said from the living room doorway. To his credit, Dean was one of the few who didn’t jump at the sudden appearance of the girl.

“Thought I told ya to get to bed,” Bobby scowled.

“Bobby Singer, a parent?” Ellen raised her eyebrows again. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“He’s not my parent,” Claire said, crossing her arms. “I can’t go back home because my mom and dad are gone. And Cas is in my dad’s body. Only good thing he did for me was pretend to be Dad long enough to get me officially settled here.”

Ellen and Jo’s heads whipped around to stare at Castiel, who was suddenly very interested in the carpet under his feet. Dean sighed.

“Claire –”

“I’m not starting a fight,” Claire said, wandering over to slump on the couch. “Not right before some important mission. I just wanna know what’s going on.”

“That’s fair enough,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s not like you’ll be coming –”

“Damn right she’s not,” Dean said.

“Fine,” Bobby grumbled. “But I want ya back in bed as soon as we’re done.”

“Fine,” Claire parroted. Dean suppressed a snort, wondering when the twelve-year-old had grown so snarky. Maybe she’d been around Bobby too long.

“Right, who’s up for an end of the world party?” Bobby said, crossing over to his liquor cabinet. “Might as well break out the good stuff. Except you, pipsqueak. I ain’t havin’ you die of alcohol poisoning before ya even reach your teens.”

Claire just rolled her eyes.

Two hours later, their “end of the world” party was in full-swing. Dean sidled up to Castiel, who had just drained ten shot glasses of whiskey in a row while Ellen and Jo stared at him.

“I think I’m starting to feel something,” Castiel said, voice just starting to slur.

“Nice job, sunshine,” Dean grinned, slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. He pressed a sloppy kiss to Castiel’s cheek, causing the usually stoic angel to actually giggle and slump against him.

“Whooaaaa,” Jo said. “Never pegged you as gay, Winchester.”

“‘M not gay.” Dean tossed back a shot of whiskey. “I’m bisexual. I’m halosexual. I’m – I’m _Cas_ sexual.” His head whirling slightly, he laughed and gave Castiel the messiest kiss he’d ever given anyone.

“Gross!” Claire glowered at him from the couch, can of Coke clutched tightly in her hand. “I thought you promised not to do that stuff around me.”

“Right –” Dean held up a finger, then let his forehead fall onto Castiel’s shoulder. “Sorry, Claire-bear.”

“Eww. Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Castiel’s eyes were glistening, and he slid off the desk to go and sit down next to Claire. Dean squawked as he toppled over, flipping Sam, Anna, and Jo off when they doubled over with laughter.

“Uh, what –” Claire was cut off by Castiel pulling her into a tight hug, rocking slightly where he sat.

“I’m _sorry_. I know you hate me,” Castiel slurred. “I took –” He hiccupped. “I took your father. And I got your mother killed. I don’t want you to hate me, Claire.”

“If this is what drinking does, I’m never touching a drop of alcohol ever,” Claire said, trying to wriggle out of Castiel’s arms. But Castiel was still going.

“Our Father’s orders were to love humanity. And I – I’m _falling_ trying to do that. And taking a girl’s parents from her is hardly – hardly _love_.”

“Alright, alright, I forgive you!” Claire finally managed to extract herself and she crossed her arms, though she didn’t look quite so pissed anymore. “Just stop being weird.”

Castiel beamed toothily at her. “Thank – Thank you, Claire.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed so I don’t have to put up with all the drunk people.” 

Dean quickly took Claire’s place and snuggled up to Castiel. He wasn’t _drunk_ , but he was definitely tipsy, the alcohol leaving him with a warm buzz. Castiel was pretty tipsy too; Dean was certain he wasn’t drunk, because it’d taken a whole liquor store last time to get him actually drunk.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel grinned, kissing Dean messily on the forehead.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean slid a hand up Castiel’s thigh, stopping just short of his crotch. The way Castiel’s plump pink lips parted and his pupils dilated ever so slightly sent a wave of heat coursing down south in Dean’s body. “Dangerous mission tomorrow.”

“I know.” Castiel sagged against the back of the couch, pulling Dean with him. Nearby, Sam seemed to be having a drinking contest with Jo, while Anna made sure they didn’t kill themselves and Bobby and Ellen spoke a short distance away. Their proximity brought a fuzzy memory to the forefront of Dean’s mind: another timeline, where the Titanic hadn’t sunk, and Bobby and Ellen were happy together. Maybe that second one wasn’t as impossible as Dean thought.

“Last night on earth,” Dean continued. He ran his fingers down to Castiel’s knee, then back up his thigh. Castiel’s eyes were fixed on the movement. “Got any plans?”

“I – I was just going to sit here and drink,” Castiel said shakily. Dean tsked and wrapped Castiel’s tie around his free hand to pull the angel in close.

“Or we could go out with a bang,” he breathed against Castiel’s lips. Castiel took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Are – are you trying to seduce me?” he said. Through the haze of alcohol, Dean could see the sharp awareness of the ancient, cosmic being behind his vessel’s eyes. Good thing, too. Dean was okay with a bit of alcohol to loosen things up and get it flowing, but he’d always drawn the line when the girl was too drunk to even walk without tripping, and Castiel was no exception.

“Maybe I am.” Dean’s breath ghosted across Castiel’s lips. “Maybe I am trying to _seduce_ _you_.”

It was Castiel who shattered the tension by leaning in and pressing his mouth against Dean’s clumsily. Groaning, Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and he inhaled the sharp scent of ozone and petrichor that was Castiel –

“Get a room!” Anna’s shout made Dean jump, accidentally breaking the kiss with Castiel.

“Have some self-respect, Winchester!” Jo hollered.

“You’re the ones watchin’!” Dean retorted, flipping them off, but he still climbed to his feet and pulled Castiel up with him. Castiel swayed and slumped against him, but thankfully wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t walk. “We’re goin’ to the panic room.”

“I better not find any suspicious stains, boy!” Bobby called after them. Dean just cackled.

As soon as the panic room door closed behind them, Castiel had Dean pressed up against the cold iron, kissing him sloppily and forcing a knee between Dean’s legs. Dean groaned into the kiss and rutted against Castiel’s thigh as he wrapped an arm around Castiel’s neck, all the blood in his body rushing south.

“Won’t let you die,” Dean forced out, slipping his other arm into Castiel’s trench coat and soaking in the warmth radiating through Castiel’s shirt. “Not gonna happen. Not gonna be your last night on earth.”

Castiel just hummed and kissed down his throat, nipping his pulse point and making his breath catch. Then, in a move that caused Dean’s brain to fog over with arousal, Castiel lifted him clean off the ground and whirled to stagger over to the creaky bed and deposit him gently. Something deep inside Dean fluttered at the sight of Castiel looming over him with messy hair, parted lips, and blown eyes, and he didn’t think he’d ever loved the angel more than he did in this moment.

Okay, he was wrong. He _could_ love Castiel more than he did then. And this was proven as they lay in the afterglow of an intense round of sex, Dean warm and loose and fuzzy and holding Castiel close to him. Castiel purred and nuzzled into his neck, not even seeming to care about the mess on Dean’s stomach as he caressed the sweaty skin.

“I love it when you’re inside me,” Castiel said breathlessly, kissing right above Dean’s pulse. Looked like Dean’s pulse was just as good as his actual heartbeat for satisfying Castiel’s heartbeat kink. “It feels like I can touch your soul.”

 _That_ was the moment when Dean realised that he could love Castiel more than he thought he did.

“You’re gonna make it,” Dean said firmly, threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I ain’t gonna let you die again, especially since Lucifer got you twice.”

“I won’t die if I can help it,” Castiel said. “Now, sleep. You need to be rested for tomorrow.”

Dean didn’t want to sleep. If something _did_ happen with Lucifer tomorrow, he just wanted to stay in this moment forever. But between the alcohol and the sex, it was inevitable that he would drift off. However, waking up the next morning in Castiel’s arms while the angel sang softly in a language foreign to Dean’s ears would definitely be one of the moments on eternal repeat when he eventually ended up in Heaven.

* * *

If there was one thing that Dean should’ve learned by now, it was that just because he had future knowledge, it didn’t mean that things couldn’t go monumentally belly-up. Carthage was excellent proof of that. Dean knew Lucifer would be there. He knew about the hellhounds, so the team made short work of them. He had a weapon he _knew_ would kill Lucifer.

And yet, the second Lucifer laid eyes on them and grinned, Dean knew that it was all about to go horribly wrong.

“Nice glasses. Really brings out the pitiful humanity in your eyes,” Lucifer said, leaning on the shovel he was holding and tilting his head. The gesture reminded Dean horribly of Lustiel, as he’d mentally christened Lucifer possessing Cas, and he had to take a deep breath and ground himself to remind himself that Lucifer wasn’t in Castiel’s body and never would be. Hell, this Lucifer was covered in sores and was burning his vessel out by the second.

“Thanks,” Dean said, pasting a grin on his face trying to sound as cocky as he could. If Lucifer got even a hint of weakness from anyone, he’d milk it for all it was worth and then more. “Guess you wouldn’t know about the latest fashion trends, bein’ in Hell and all.”

Lucifer just smirked. He dropped the shovel he was holding and then blinked to allow his eyes to gleam bright red, and Dean forced himself not to react to the clear intimidation tactic. He wasn’t scared of Lucifer and what the archangel could do to him; as the hallucination had said back with the ghost sickness, it was what Lucifer could do and _had_ done to those he loved that was truly terrifying.

“Scorched with holy fire?” Lucifer said. “Nice little touch there. Almost like you were expecting some little doggies when you came to pay me a visit. But then, I’ve heard a lot about you, Dean. The man who seems to know everything.”

“That’s me,” Dean said with a smirk that didn’t even fool himself. If Lucifer decided to do something about how he knew so much, he was fucked. Not because Lucifer would rain agony down on him, but because Lucifer would undoubtedly decide to take it out on someone else. Most like Castiel, since Sam was off-limits as his vessel. And Dean would let the world go to hell if it meant keeping Castiel safe.

“What’s with all the fanfare, Sam?” Lucifer looked straight at Sam, who stiffened next to Dean. “I’m more of a one-on-one kind of guy. I didn’t know you were into an audience.”

“Cut the crap, Lucifer.” Dean turned and grabbed the Lance from Anna, who was watching the demons surrounding them with wary disgust. Among them was Meg, and the way she was eyeing Castiel made sickening heat boil in Dean’s belly when he remembered how she’d shoved Castiel against the wall and kissed him in the other timeline. A “thorny beauty”, Cas had called her. More like a thorny pain in his ass.

“The Lance of Michael?” Something flickered across Lucifer’s face for the tiniest fraction of a millisecond. “Sammy, I didn’t know you’d be bringing me such a priceless gift! I would’ve gotten you something in return if I’d known!”

“It’s not for you to use,” Sam snarled.

“Hmm. Pity. Well, I’m kind of in the middle of something here, so if you’d care to just give me a minute till I’m done? Then you can poke me with all the shafts you want.”

Lucifer turned and began to shovel more dirt into the hole next to him. Dean took advantage of Lucifer’s distraction to sprint up and, before any demons could react, stab with the Lance. Lucifer dodged at the last second, but the Lance still grazed him across the side, and vindictive satisfaction coursed through Dean as the bloody wound darkened to black.

“Father!” Meg hurried over to Lucifer’s side, but Lucifer waved her off. When he turned around and began to _laugh_ even though he’d just been stabbed with a weapon that could actually kill him, the satisfaction in Dean’s gut curdled. Oh, shit. Lucifer had something planned. Dean just couldn’t tell what.

“Well.” Lucifer looked down at his wound and then back up, eyebrows raised. “Congratulations, Dean. You killed me! Or did you?”

“Pretty sure he did,” Jo spoke up. “You don’t look so good.”

Lucifer’s attention turned to her, and his eyes lingered on her for so long that Ellen growled and Dean was considering stabbing him again for good measure. But then Lucifer’s eyes shifted to Anna and Castiel.

“Hadraniel! Castiel!” He beamed and held his hands out. “My fellow fallen siblings! It’s so heartening to see angels after my own heart, not buying Michael’s shit. Pity you’ve thrown your lot in with the mud monkeys instead of your fellow bad boy rebel.”

“We’re nothing like you,” Anna snarled, tightening her grip on her angel blade. Dean was certain he’d caught a flash of bright blue behind her eyes.

“Is that so?” Lucifer said. He exhaled sharply and pressed a hand to the gash in his side, which was starting to ooze black veins up his ribs. Dean clenched his hands around the Lance to ground himself. It wasn’t Cas. It was Lucifer. Castiel was safe next to him. _Get a grip, Winchester!_

“Father, I –”

“Be quiet, Meg,” Lucifer said lazily. His eyes gleamed as he surveyed Anna and Castiel. “Guys, come on! Why are you fighting _me_?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Castiel said, raising a cool eyebrow. If they weren’t in the middle of a life or death situation, Dean would’ve been way too turned-on than was appropriate.

“I rebelled, I was cast out,” Lucifer said. “You rebelled, you were cast out, Castiel. And Hadraniel rebelled, but…eh, she just skipped on out like baby brother Gabriel. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one, both of you. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?”

Anna and Castiel just looked at each other and then laughed right in Lucifer’s face. Dean didn’t think he could be any prouder.

“We’d die before we joined you,” Castiel said. The sudden gleam in Lucifer’s eye set off alarm bells in Dean’s head.

“Hmm. I suppose you would.”

Dean was geared up for Lucifer to attack them, so he was taken by surprise when it was Meg who launched herself at him, snarling and grappling for the Lance, while the other demons exploded into action and swarmed the others. Dean kicked Meg in the stomach to try to get her to let go, but she just grinned widely at him and tugged harder on the Lance. Why wasn’t she using her demon powers? Dean didn’t have the time to analyse the possible motives of one demon when he was right in the middle of wrestling with said demon for the weapon that could kill Lucifer.

“Let go of it, you bitch!” Dean growled. Meg just laughed in his face.

“Or what? You’ll stab me with that thing?” she said. “You’re lucky I’m not powerful enough to just rip it from you. That thing’s got serious juice.” Her eyes flashed black. “And now you’re gonna pay for what you just did to my father.”

She raised her hand and clenched it into a fist. Dean tensed, tightening his grip on the Lance even more, but nothing happened…at least, not for a moment. With a shout, Bobby came crashing into Dean’s back, and Dean cried out and lost his grip on the Lance in surprise.

“Sorry, Dean,” Meg shrugged. “You just made this personal.”

Dean saw it happen in slow motion. Meg whirled around, the Lance flashing in the moonlight, and jabbed it at Castiel, who had just stabbed a demon with his angel blade.

“No! Cas!” Dean bellowed. Castiel turned at the sound of his name, but he was too late to react to Meg’s attack. The Lance plunged into his abdomen with a sickening squelch, staining the shirt around it with dark fluid that just grew even darker with every passing second.

“Oh, dear,” Lucifer tutted, dropping his shovel again after finally filling in the hole during the fight. Meg hopped back towards him, laughing in delight, as Dean bolted over and scrambled to pull a convulsing Castiel into his arms.

“Cas! Cas! No – nonononono – not again, this can’t be happening –” Dean babbled, fingers fumbling through the soaked, bloody shirt for the wound underneath. His racing heart leapt into his throat at the side of the black wound, already starting to spread through Castiel’s veins far quicker than last time. Was that because this wound was more serious?

“Dean –” Castiel choked. His hand, shaking madly, rose to cup Dean’s cheek. “Don’t – don’t worry –”

“Don’t worry?” Dean said hysterically. Dimly, he was aware that everybody else had crowded around them to see how bad it was, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Cas, you – you know how this ends! You can’t just – I can’t let you die again!”

“Dean –” Anna rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off with a pained snarl, his insides twisting into a terrified knot.

“Nice runework,” Lucifer said lightly. When Dean’s head whipped around, he saw that the Devil was examining the Lance in Meg’s hands as though he wasn’t currently dying from the wound that had snaked veins up his cheek. Lucifer then looked Dean right in the eye and gave a chilling smile devoid of any emotion except pure triumph. “Must be what gives this its power, huh?”

Dean immediately knew what Lucifer was implying. Of course Lucifer would know that breaking the Lance would reverse the effects. And of course he couldn’t just break it as soon as Meg got it. No, it was just like him to force his attacker to be the one to break it. And how better to do that than to put another under the Lance’s effects?

“You son of a bitch,” Dean said, voice wavering. “Just fucking do it.”

“Hmm…no.” Lucifer’s smile widened. “Why should I? I’m not worried about dying because I know you won’t let my baby brother die. You _like_ him for some squishy human reason. You want him to live, you do it.” Lucifer made an exaggerated look of deep thought. “Unless you’re willing to sacrifice Castiel for me? What do you say, Dean? Are you gonna be the hero and go for the greater good? Or are you gonna be the selfish son of a bitch I know you are and save your boy toy, even if it means letting me live?”

Dean took a deep breath, then forced himself to let go of Castiel and stand up.

“Dean?” Sam said as Dean approached Lucifer and Meg. Around them, the demons remained on-guard, watching and ready to leap into action again. “Dean, no – you can’t –”

“Give him the Lance, Meg,” Lucifer said. Though visibly displeased, Meg reluctantly held the Lance out for Dean to take, and Lucifer turned to smile at Sam. “Such a smart cookie, Sam. Meg wasn’t lying when she told me you were the brains of the place. So you should know how far Dean will go for those he loves, right? After all –” Lucifer’s eyes flashed red as he grinned at Dean, “– I wouldn’t even be free if not for that. I suppose I should be thanking your pitiful, self-sacrificing nature, Dean.”

“Dean – no – you can’t – have to kill Lucifer –” Castiel hissed and Anna immediately knelt to cradle him. Dean looked him right in the eye.

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean lifted a knee and brought the Lance down hard on it. A loud _crack_ filled the air and the Lance split in two, emitting a blinding blue-white light that burned so bright that Dean had to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them, blinking rapidly to dispel the spots in his vision, the light had faded and Castiel was fully healed, staring down at his stomach with an open mouth. But he wasn’t the only one back at full health.

“Muuuch better.” Lucifer touched his shirt to clean himself up in an instant. “See, Dean? Was that really so hard?”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean snarled, trembling with rage. He tossed the useless pieces of the Lance aside and started towards Lucifer, but Meg leapt over and grabbed him around the waist to stop him in his tracks. When Ellen, who was the next closest, made a move towards Lucifer, he just waved a hand and froze everybody else on the spot.

“Now, hush,” Lucifer scolded. “Midnight is calling, and I have a ritual to finish. Don’t go anywhere.” He turned back to his hole and chanted a short incantation, then swivelled back around to the demons around them.

“Someone go get the Rod,” Dean hissed. Anna attempted to take off, but she couldn’t move from where Lucifer had her frozen.

“I can’t!” she said as the demons chanted in the background. Suddenly, as though they’d all been stabbed at the same time, every demon in the area sans Meg lit up bright gold and then collapsed. Lucifer just raised an eyebrow when everybody stared.

“What?” he said. “They’re just demons. Don’t worry, Meg, you’re special,” he added when Meg made a noise of displeasure. Satisfied, she returned to smirking.

When Lucifer turned back to the hole, Dean caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. It was Ellen, struggling free of Lucifer’s influence, and he realised that Lucifer must not have been able to hold all of them and summon Death at the same time. Or maybe he was letting them go free. Honestly, when it came to the Devil, Dean didn’t even know anymore.

The ground began to rumble as Lucifer completed his ritual. Just as Dean was starting to wonder if they were all going to end up just like the demons, a hand was on his shoulder and his surroundings warped and shifted back into Bobby’s living room, though without bringing Meg along for the ride.

“Well,” Bobby said from behind Dean. “I need a drink.”

Something was buzzing in Dean’s ears. As though in a trance, he stumbled over to the couch and sank down, staring at the worn carpet. He couldn’t look at anybody else. He couldn’t deal with their pity or their disappointment or just – just anything. He’d fucked it all up, put their lives in danger for nothing, and he’d only shown that he was a weak son of a bitch and that all anyone had to do was threaten his loved ones and he’d be their little bitch –

“Dean?” The couch next to him dipped and a hand took his. Dean flinched away from Jo’s touch, unable to even look at her. “Hey, Dean, don’t start being a martyr over this – we’ll figure out another way to stop him –”

“Don’t.” Dean’s voice cracked. “Don’t even – just – don’t.”

“Dean –”

“No!” Dean jumped off the couch, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and trying not to let his brain conjure images of Castiel dying _again_ , rotting from the inside out for the second time. “Don’t you sit there and put on that pity bullshit when you – you don’t know! Cas nearly _died_ last time! I had to stand there and watch him rot and I – I couldn’t do it again –”

“Dean.” Warm hands cupped his face and a pair of bright blue eyes filled his vision, grounding him, trying to pull him down from his impending meltdown. “Come on. You need to calm down away from everybody else.”

Numbly, Dean allowed Castiel to lead him out of the living room and downstairs to the panic room. Memories of last night briefly drifted across his mind, only to be swallowed by the flash of Castiel on the ground, once again decaying and looking at Dean like – shit, no, Dean couldn’t even go there.

“Dean.” Castiel had Dean in his arms on the bed. Wait, when had they laid down? And when had Castiel removed the holy fire glasses? “Dean, I’m here. I’m alive.”

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath and buried his face in Castiel’s chest, the angelic scent anchoring him to reality. When the fuck had he become so weak? He’d been so strong for years, pasting on a grin and reassuring everybody that he was okay…and now his walls were down, and he was just – just so _weak_ –

“You’re not weak,” Castiel said firmly, now scritching the back of Dean’s neck. Wait, had Dean said that out loud? “Allowing yourself to process your emotions isn’t weak. It makes you strong. It makes you _human_.”

“You nearly died.” Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort to hold back his impending breakdown. “I – Cas, I nearly fuckin’ lost you _again_ –”

“But you didn’t.” Castiel kissed the top of his head. “Though you should have ensured that Lucifer died. Killing him is far more important than my life –”

“ _No_!” Dean jerked back from Castiel, looking him in the eye frantically. “Don’t – Cas, don’t you fucking – _nothing_ is more important than you! Or Sam! Don’t you _dare_ think that I would put _anything_ before the two of you! I can’t – I _won’t_ lose you again. I’m a horrible, horrible, selfish person and – fuck, Cas, I’d let the goddamn world burn if it meant not losing you or Sam, and I just –”

At a loss for words, he buried his face in Castiel’s shirt again and just yelled, digging the fingers of one hand into Castiel’s shoulder so hard that he would have left a bruise if Castiel was human. Castiel laid there dutifully, letting Dean scream and cry and finally allow decades of emotional repression to truly explode out of him. That other night in the motel had _nothing_ on this.

“You’re not a horrible person,” Castiel said soothingly, stroking Dean’s hair while Dean continued to melt down in his arms. “You’re the best, most amazing person I’ve ever had the fortune to know. Seeing your memories from the other timeline only solidified that for me. You’re so good and loving, Dean, and you’re smart and loyal and protective, and I wouldn’t have rebelled and fallen and allowed myself to be branded with the same stigma as Lucifer if that wasn’t the case.”

Dean tried to deny everything that Castiel was saying, but words refused to travel from his brain to his mouth, so he continued to cry and choke and gasp.

“I can’t see the current state of your soul,” Castiel continued. “But I – I remember seeing it in Hell, before my Father brought your older soul back in time. You were so bright, Dean. Everything was so dark and ugly, but you shone brighter than the most brilliant star in the universe, even after breaking and taking up Alastair’s blade. I think that was when I was truly lost. I don’t think I would have allowed your words about free will and doing the right thing have such an effect on me if I hadn’t seen you at your absolute lowest.”

 _“When Castiel first laid a hand on you, he was lost!”_ Hester’s voice shrieked in Dean’s head. He shook his head and drew in deep, hiccupping breaths, trying to banish those words as he finally calmed down, because he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t –

“You’re not horrible,” Castiel said, kissing him on the head again. “Your selfishness is typical of humanity, Dean, because you’re _human_. And that’s why I love you. You’re a beautiful contradiction, and I could spend an eternity attempting to understand you humans and never even grow close.”

All the fight had drained out of Dean after his meltdown, leaving him boneless in Castiel’s arms. Castiel gently angled his face up and kissed him on the lips.

“Sleep, Dean,” he said. And really, who was Dean to argue with an order like that? For once in his life, this was an order he was quite happy to follow, especially if Castiel would stay close to him.

“Don’t leave me,” he mumbled. He was barely audible, but of course Castiel had heard him.

“Of course.” Castiel returned to stroking his hair. “I’ll be here when you wake.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

In the year and a bit since he’d come back in time, Dean had assumed that the changes he was making were just ripples throughout the timeline; that one small change would lead to a bigger one. And while that had largely proven to be true – more and more Apocalypse-related things were starting to change from before – he hadn’t actually stopped to consider that these changes just might end up reverberating through the whole timeline rather than concentrating on him and when he was.

So, when a closet door in Bobby’s house started to rattle and glow with a bright golden light, Dean was seriously weighing the pros and cons of going to Amara and asking her to reconsider shivving her brother. 

“Jesus fucking – no!” Dean yelled up at the ceiling while Sam, Castiel, Claire, and Bobby eyed the door warily. “Why now? This isn’t s’posed to happen for another three years, you son of a bitch!”

“What? What’s happening?” Sam said, fumbling for his gun on the table. “What’s –”

The door burst open and a young man with neat, dark hair and a blue suit toppled out of the closet, landing in an almost superhero-like pose. He looked around the room wildly and his eyes locked straight on Dean.

“Which of you is John Winchester?” Henry Winchester demanded.

“Oh my fucking god.” Dean scrambled to grab his duffle bag. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Dean? Who the fuck just came outta my closet?” Bobby said, his gun aimed right at Henry. “Thought the wards –”

“That –” Dean jabbed a finger at Henry, “– is Henry Winchester. And he’s bringing a fucking Knight of Hell down on our heads, so we need to get the hell out before she comes.”

“How do you know who I am?” Henry squinted at Dean. “And how do you know about Abaddon?”

“Birds of a feather, you and I,” Dean said. He made a small sound of triumph when he finally fished the Colt out of his duffle. “Now get outta the way. Abaddon’s gonna come crashin’ through any second now and I’ve only got one of these suckers left.”

“A gun can’t kill a Knight of Hell,” Henry scoffed, but he obeyed and backed away behind Castiel, who was closest and had already withdrawn his angel blade. “You’d – you’d need an ancient demon-killing knife of the Kurds, or the Colt if you preferred a gun –”

“What do you think this is, genius?” Dean waved the Colt. Henry’s eyes bulged.

“You have the _Colt_? Where did you find it? And where is John Winchester?”

“Doesn’t matter. And no, that demon-killing knife won’t work. Claire, get away from the door!” Dean barked at Claire, who jumped and scuttled away. “Right now, where John is doesn’t matter when a goddamn Knight of Hell’s gonna burst through there.”

“Then why the hell are we here if a homicidal, powerful demon’s gonna crash my livin’ room?” Bobby said.

“‘Cause I gotta take the chance to kill her while I got it. Trust me, this is one bitch you don’t want running around.”

“How do you know all of this?” Henry exploded. “Now please, where is John, and how do you know him?”

Before Dean could tell him to shut the fuck up, the closet door rattled and then burst open in a flash of bright light. A very familiar figure stepped through, clad in a grey evening dress with her red hair pinned back neatly. Castiel’s eyes widened upon seeing her and he raised his angel blade.

“Henry,” Abaddon laughed. “Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then, spells never were your best subject, were they? Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.” Her eyes swept over Castiel, and Dean really didn’t like the gleam in them as she looked him up and down. Okay, that demonic bitch could just back right the hell off.

“You know I can’t do that,” Henry said, somehow managing to look firm and tough despite clearly shaking in his shoes. He shifted to hide more of himself behind Castiel, clearly figuring that the guy with a shiny silver blade and a serious case of smitey bitchface was probably his best hope of surviving this.

“You’re not a fighter, Henry.” Abaddon’s painted red lips curved in a wicked smirk. “And hiding behind that plucked angel’s not going to do you much good.”

While Henry did the mental gymnastics required to process the fact that he was accidentally using an angel of the Lord as a shield, Dean raised the Colt and fired. But of course things couldn’t just go his way for once. Abaddon raised her hand to halt the bullet in mid-air, but she clearly hadn’t been expecting to be shot at, because the bullet whizzed straight on its trajectory before she could stop it. Unfortunately for Dean, Abaddon’s move had ensured that the bullet hit her palm, squelched through it, whizzed _just_ past her cheek, and embedded itself in the door behind her instead of – you know – in her heart to actually kill her.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Dean complained, while Abaddon screamed and cradled her sparking hand. He dived to grab Claire by the wrist and tugged her back towards the front door. “C’mon, c’mon, we gotta go!”

“What’s going on?” Claire said as Dean tugging her out to the Impala, their footsteps crunching in the January snow. Sam and Bobby were close behind, followed by Castiel, who was hauling Henry by the arm. Dean didn’t answer, instead yanking the back door open and shoving Claire inside.

“Hurry the fuck up and get in!” he yelled. He waited until the last person was inside – Castiel, squashing Bobby and Henry between himself and Claire on the opposite side of the backseat only meant to hold three instead of four – before tearing out of the scrapyard, not giving Castiel the chance to even close his door. Good thing he’d kept the ice chains on Baby, because he did _not_ have the time to chain her up.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam said, slumping in the front seat. “Dean, who is she? And who’s Henry?”

“Yes, how do you –” Before he could finish, Henry was doubling over and throwing up right on the floor, and Dean groaned.

“Seriously? In my baby? Dude!”

“I apologise.” Henry shakily wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, while Castiel snapped his fingers to clean the mess up while wrinkling his nose. “It’s just…well, all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

“Fuckin’ bookworms,” Dean muttered. “Right, we’re gettin’ _far_ away from here and then you’ll get your answers. And for your information, you’re not gonna find John, so we’re the best you’ve got.”

“Why?” Henry straightened up. “How do you know John? Where is he that would prohibit me from seeing him?”

“Oh, I dunno, try Heaven. And we’re his sons, so we’re as good as you’re gonna get.”

“What? No –” Utterly devastated, Henry looked down at the floor, shaking his head.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Sam said.

“‘Cause Dad’s his son, Sammy,” Dean said. “Meet Grandpa Winchester.”

* * *

They stopped at the first diner they found to recollect themselves and calm their jittery nerves from the confrontation with Abaddon. When they found a booth that would fit them all, Henry just slumped against the window and stared down at a black and white photograph of himself and kid John, while everybody else except for Dean stared at him.

“Alright,” Dean finally said to break the unnatural silence. Everybody jumped and stared around. “Explanation time. That –” he pointed at Henry, “– is Henry Winchester, aka our time-travelling grandpa from 1958, aka the douchebag who wasn’t s’posed to land here for another three damn years.”

“How do you –” Henry narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You’re a time-traveller. Like me.”

“Bingo. 2017. Unlike you, I got my soul shoved back in my younger body.”

“So you’re a Man of Letters too?” Henry said excitedly before taking a deep breath. “Excuse me, where are my manners? This isn’t quite the impression I thought I would make on my grandchildren.” He held out a hand to Sam. “Henry Winchester, as you know. It’s a pleasure.”

Sam hesitantly shook Henry’s hand. “Uh – Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.” Henry then held out his hand to Dean. “And you’re Dean, if I’m not mistaken?”

Unlike last time, Dean shook his hand and nodded. “Yep. No, I’m not a Man of Letters, I didn’t use any soul shit to come back in time. I just got friends in high places. Very high places. That grumpy-ass is Bobby Singer, Mr Devilishly Handsome there is Castiel, and the pipsqueak is Claire Novak, his vessel’s daughter. Don’t ask.”

Henry opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. A waitress arrived at that moment with their food, and Henry ended up watching Castiel, the only person not eating.

“Why are you staring at me?” Castiel said. Henry jumped and looked away quickly, while Dean snickered at the role reversal with the angel who was normally the one staring creepily.

“Are you really an angel?” Henry said. “We’ve – the Men of Letters have books and notes on angels, and we’ve a small stash of angel feathers, but we’ve never had the fortune to encounter one in person.”

“More like the misfortune,” Dean said around his mouthful of burger. He swallowed, licking his lips and smirking when Castiel’s eyes were drawn to his action from across the table. “They’re all a bunch of dicks. Sorry to burst your bubble, Gramps. Cas there’s the only decent one, and he’s just hangin’ around ‘cause he’s falling and we wanna conserve his grace.”

“Dean, that’s far from the most important reason I’m choosing to stay with you,” Castiel said in exasperation. Dean chose not to address that. He wasn’t _afraid_ of any possible homophobic reactions from his grandpa from the fifties, but he also wasn’t in the mood right now to deal with it.

“Anna’s cool too, but she’s not available right now.” Dean groaned when he remembered a third. “And Gabriel…I s’pose.”

“Gabriel? The _archangel_ Gabriel? How do you –”

“Well, when it’s the middle of the Apocalypse, anything goes,” Dean said, popping a fry into his mouth. “Welcome to 2010, buddy.”

“Just wait till Marty McFly drops in too,” Bobby drawled. Dean snorted loudly.

“Can we get serious about this?” Sam said.

“Yes, let’s.” Henry took an elegant bite of his salad. Of course their stick-up-the-ass grandfather would be a health freak like Sam. “If you’re not a Man of Letters, how do you know about us?”

“Future, remember?” Dean said. “This happened back in the first timeline too. We found out a whole bunch of stuff. By the way, the British branch is a bunch of cold, murderous bitches with their own version of Hogwarts slash Hunger Games. You might wanna do somethin’ about them.”

“When did you go to Britain?” Sam spluttered.

“I didn’t. They came to us.”

“Then what are – no.” Henry’s eyes flicked between Sam and Dean. “You’re hunters? But – they’re apes!”

“Thanks for that,” Bobby muttered.

“You’re legacies!” Henry continued.

“Yeah, we are,” Dean said. “But thanks to you skipping out, Dad never knew that. So he got into hunting. And considering our mom was a hunter, we’re kinda legacies of that too.”

“But –”

“Okay, seriously, if we wanna stop Abaddon, we gotta make more Colt bullets,” Dean interrupted Henry. “That was the last one I had.”

“How did this go down last time?” Sam said.

“Eh, horribly,” Dean said. “As usual. She got her hands on you, tried to swap you for the box Gramps has in his pocket –”

Henry’s hand jerked to the pocket of his suit jacket and he stared at Dean with wide eyes.

“– and then ended up killing him,” Dean finished. “Which is about how everything in our lives goes. I just don’t get why the hell they came through three years early.”

“It’s possible that your own tampering with the timeline distorted Henry’s spell,” Castiel said. “Your actions may have caused a – a ‘bump’ of sorts that disrupted Henry’s spell and deposited him earlier.”

“Great.”

“So…how much harder is it to take down a Knight of Hell?” Claire spoke for the first time. Henry jumped, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Are they like the Princes of Hell?”

“The Princes –?”

“Kinda,” Dean said before Henry could freak out. “Not as powerful, but Ruby’s knife still won’t work. Of course, in the last timeline, we lost the Colt after that Carthage crap and didn’t find it again till 2017, so that wasn’t an option.”

“Then how did you kill Abaddon last time?” Castiel said. Dean immediately stiffened. Nope. No way was he telling them this. He’d done a lot of shit he wasn’t proud of, yeah, but taking on the Mark and becoming a demon was pretty much up top of the list of things he never wanted to acknowledge ever again, right there with breaking in Hell under Alastair’s hand.

“Dean?” Bobby was uncharacteristically gentle. “How’d ya do it? We gotta know in case we need a back-up –”

Dean laughed harshly. “Oh, that’s not ever gonna be an option. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said firmly. “What the hell happened? How bad was it?”

“You don’t need to –”

“We’re not gonna judge you! We know you’ve had to do some fucked-up shit –”

“Yeah?” Dean’s fist cracked down hard on the table. “Well, how ‘bout you try taking on the goddamn Mark of Cain and turning into a _demon_ , then trying to kill your own brother and beating the absolute shit out of your angel buddy to the point where he can’t even look at you? Or – hold up – maybe murdering an innocent kid who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? That fucked-up enough for ya? Oh, and let’s not forget that I was cured when I did those last two things, so it was just me and my supposedly ‘gorgeous, bright’ soul. Then getting that damn thing off resulted in freeing God’s sister, who tried to destroy the entire goddamn universe and nearly _did_ kill God, and I’m pretty sure she _still_ sorta has the hots for me even though the only reason I was drawn to her was some creepy bond I never wanted in the first place.”

 Dead silence fell on the table. Dean took an angry bite of his burger, eyes glued to the varnished wood, refusing to look anyone in the eye for fear of what he’d find. Whether it was horror, disgust, or just plain pity, he didn’t want a bar of it.

“Dean –” Castiel started.

“Don’t fuckin’ go there.”

“I wasn’t.” Irritation crept into Castiel’s voice. “I know that you’re just going to shut down and refuse to talk about it, so I _was_ going to ask you what’s so important about the box that Henry has.”

Dean’s head shot up and he met Castiel’s eyes. There was definitely sympathy there, yeah, and the same irritation that had been in his voice, but there was also an understanding softness that made his shoulders slump. Man, he really needed to stop taking his emotional issues out on everyone around him.

“Yes, I was going to ask as well,” Henry said, taking the box out of his pocket. The sight of the bunker key so tantalisingly close practically made Dean’s mouth water. As much as he tried to deny it, he fucking missed the bunker. He missed his own room and his memory foam. He missed having a _kitchen_ he could go wild in. He missed the privacy he and other Sam had so eagerly embraced for the first time in their lives. He missed the enormous stash of information at his fingertips, and the dungeon, and the garage, and…he just missed having a _home_. Bobby’s place was nice, and it had been devastating to lose it to the Leviathans, but…it wasn’t the same. It had still been Bobby’s home, just extended to them.

“What is it?” Claire took the box from Henry and turned it over in her hands, her blonde hair falling in her eyes. “And what even does this mean?”

“The symbol is our crest.” Henry took the box back and slipped it back into his pocket. “The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power. They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself. And as for what the box is…I’m afraid I don’t know. Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.”

“So ya travelled through time – accidentally ditchin’ your son and leavin’ him with a tonne of daddy issues – to protect somethin’ from a goddamn Knight of Hell when ya got no clue what it does?” Bobby said.

“Wow, you _are_ a Winchester,” Claire said. Dean kicked her shins under the table and she shot him a death glare that would’ve been a lot more threatening if she wasn’t a preteen.

“Well…when you phrase it like that…” Henry looked down rather sheepishly. “I never intended to leave John. I meant to come forward to when he’d been initiated and give this box to him then. And…well, I suppose I panicked. I’m not one for physical confrontations, and Abaddon had slaughtered every other Man of Letters and was coming for me next.”

“Right.” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. Henry hadn’t explained so blatantly just how bad the danger had been last time, and he supposed he had to cut the guy a little slack. Especially after Mick Davies. These guys really weren’t the best of fighters, unless their name happened to be Arthur Ketch. “Well, I ain’t sure what she’ll do now to get the box. She kidnapped Sammy last time, but I get the feeling that was just to bring us to her turf, not ‘cause she couldn’t handle us. But we didn’t have somethin’ that could kill her last time and Cas was…somewhere. So I dunno what she’ll do this time around.”

Henry frowned at Dean. “I hadn’t realised that such a crass manner of speech had become so commonplace in the future.”

Dean snorted. “Get used to it, gramps. Look, rather than spend an hour fanboying over the box – ‘cause it turned out to be one of the most important things in my life –”

Henry pulled the box out again to frown at it, as though wondering how such a small thing could be so important. If only he knew.

“– I’ll show ya. It’s a key to a very special place in Lebanon, Kansas. Well, it’s not special on its own. I mean, I s’pose it kinda is, but…it’s what it means that’s important.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following,” Henry said. “Why is this place so special to you? And why does Abaddon want it?”

“I’ll tell ya on the way.” Dean pushed his plate away and let out a small burp.

“Gross, Dean,” Sam complained with Bitchface #20.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Claire announced.

“You got two minutes or I’m drivin’ off without you,” Dean said. “We can’t stay here too long or we’ll have a Knight of Hell on our asses.”

Rolling her eyes, Claire squeezed out of the booth – accidentally trampling on Castiel’s foot when she shuffled across his lap – and stumbled off to the bathroom. One of them probably should’ve volunteered to go with her, but she was the only girl and Dean didn’t really feel like being labelled a pervert for lurking around the ladies’ bathroom.

“You alright?” Sam said to Henry, who was once again staring down at the photo of John. Henry nodded slowly.

“I don’t come back from this, do I?” he said rather vaguely.

“I mean, all we know is that Dad never saw you again,” Sam said. He shot a “please use your future knowledge and explain” look at Dean. “He thought you ran out on him.”

“John was a legacy,” Henry murmured before Dean could speak. “I was supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters.”

“Lot more remorse than John ever showed leavin’ his boys, I gotta say,” Bobby said dryly, pulling his flask out and taking a swig.

“He wasn’t the greatest,” Dean said. “And I – yeah, I still think of him and get so fuckin’ pissed sometimes. We shouldn’t’ve grown up like that. We should’ve been happy and hell, even if we did become hunters, we should’ve – but hey, he had a lonely childhood, survived a stinking war, then got married and had his wife taken by a demon who killed him decades later. So I hate him, but…I love him.”

_“I hate you. I hate you. And I love you. ‘Cause I can’t – I can’t help it. You’re my mom.”_

It was the same with John. Oh, how Dean hated him. But he also couldn’t help loving him. Both his parents had utterly fucked him over and messed with his head…but they were his parents, and they’d ultimately gone out protecting him. And sure, Mary was still alive and there for Dean when he iced Lucifer…but still. Until he had her back, it wouldn’t feel like she was still alive.

“I’m sorry.” Henry’s voice cut through the fog in Dean’s brain. “I wish I had been there for him.”

“Bit too late for that,” Dean said a little harsher than intended. “So you can do the next best thing and stay right here with us. No gettin’ your guts ripped out by Abaddon, no tryin’ to skip on back to 1958. You can stay and help us with this Apocalypse bullshit. Price of bein’ a Winchester.”

“But if I could go back and fix it, that would negate all of this!” Henry said. He didn’t seem fazed at all by the knowledge that he’d dropped in the middle of the literal Apocalypse. “You wouldn’t have an Apocalypse to stop! I could give my son the life he deserves!”

“That would not happen,” Castiel said. Henry jerked away from him, probably having forgotten that the silent angel was even there. “Henry, these plans have been in motion for centuries longer than the mere concept of your individual soul even existed. Your spell was already distorted. What if you failed to make it back? And even if you did, the angels and demons would not allow you to interfere. Something would happen to you regardless.”

“Listen to the angel,” Dean said. “You wanna make it up to Dad? You can stay here and help his sons out.” He frowned. “Dude, where the hell’s Claire? No one takes that long to do a number two.”

“I’ll go and check on her,” Castiel said immediately. He slid out of the booth and headed for the bathrooms, trench coat billowing out behind him. Hot damn, but he was a sexy fucker. Dean was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

“Dean!” Sam elbowed him. Dean shook his head and looked back around, not missing the expression that flickered across Henry’s face.

“Look, John was a real son of a bitch,” Bobby said. “I had my beef with him, I ain’t gonna lie. So did everyone else he came across. But he went out protectin’ his boys, and even when he was dead he tackled that demon. Yanked it right outta its meat as a ghost and bought Dean time to kill it. So I reckon ya should be proud of how your son turned out. He wasn’t a nice man, but he was a good one.”

“He was nice before – before this all happened,” Dean said. “I got sent back to 1973 for ‘observation purposes’ back when Cas was a dick. Dad…he was happy. He had Mom, they were in love…and I remember him before that shit went down. He was a good dad. Real anger issues, and he had a habit of stormin’ out when he argued with Mom…but he was good. Always snuck me candy when Mom wasn’t lookin’, then pretended he had no clue when she busted him. Think he swore not to keep up the cycle of shitty fatherhood, but of course that went out the window when the demon killed Mom.”

Henry was looking back down at his picture, but a wistful smile was on his face this time. Dean hoped it would be enough to convince him to stay put here. He also hoped that Abaddon didn’t gank him like she did last time.

“Dean, we have a problem.” Castiel stopped next to their table, blue eyes wide. “Claire’s not in the bathroom. She’s gone. And I smelled sulfur when I entered.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

“No,” Dean blurted out, jumping up. “No. She can’t be. Did you –”

“I double-checked,” Castiel said frantically. “I even checked the other bathroom, just to be sure. But I know I smelled sulfur in there.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “But why grab Claire? Why not just attack this place? She doesn’t give a fuck about collateral damage, and we’re right here. She grabbed Sam last time ‘cause we split up.”

“She must be wary of the Colt,” Sam said, sliding out of the booth to let Bobby out. On the other side, Henry pocketed his photo and sidled out as elegantly as he could, and they hurried out of the diner and over to the Impala, covered in a fine dusting of snow. “I don’t think she knows we’re out of bullets.”

“We gotta make more,” Dean said. “Cas, you reckon you can –?”

“Tell me what I need to get,” Castiel said immediately.

“Uh, holy oil…sage…and myrrh. You know I wouldn’t ask otherwise, buddy, with your grace and all –”

“I understand, Dean.” With a rustling sound, Castiel was gone.

“C’mon.” Dean opened the driver’s door. “We’re findin’ a motel before I freeze my balls off.”

“What about Claire?” Sam said. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Abaddon wants the box. She’ll make contact soon enough. Just…get in the car.”

They stopped at the first motel they found that didn’t look like it was going to fall apart or have them swallowing cockroaches in their sleep, and Dean booked two rooms: a single for him and Cas, and a double for Sam, Bobby, and Henry. He could’ve gotten two doubles but fuck it, he barely got to have quiet time with Cas without anyone else having a legitimate excuse to be in the room. And no, that wasn’t a euphemism for sex; it was the nights when they could just cuddle in peace that were truly precious to Dean, more so than the hot sex they had. Henry could just suck it up and share with Sam or Bobby.

No sooner had they gathered in the double room than Dean’s phone pinged. He grabbed it, his insides twisting at the possibility of it being Abaddon, but it was just Castiel asking him where he was. Oh, right. He’d forgotten about the rib wards. He texted their location to Castiel, who appeared a split second later with a pithos and several small bags of herbs.

“I have the ingredients,” he announced.

“Great. Thanks, Cas.” Dean moved to kiss him on the cheek but stopped at the last second when he remembered that Henry was in the room. He cleared his throat and patted Castiel on the shoulder instead. “Just…mix ‘em all together and coat some bullets in the stuff.”

Castiel dutifully attended to his task, pulling a small bowl out of Dean’s duffle bag and pouring the oil and herbs inside. Once they were mixed, Sam handed him some bullets for him to cover in the sticky stuff.

At that very moment, Dean’s phone began to ring. His stomach lurched when _Claire_ flashed across the screen, and he steeled himself before he answered.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Wow,” Abaddon drawled. “Skipping the foreplay, are we? If you wanted to get straight into it, you could’ve just asked.”

“Don’t fuck with me. Where’s Claire?”

“Safe. For now. Don’t worry, Dean, I won’t hurt her yet. Now, if you were to refuse to bring me what I want…well, I can’t promise I wouldn’t do anything to her then.”

“The box.” Dean’s fist clenched down by his side.

“Good boy.” Abaddon’s smile was practically audible through the phone. “Brains _and_ beauty. So, I’m sure you’ve figured it out already, but I want to make a good, old-fashioned horse trade. Henry and the box for the pipsqueak. Or she dies. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Dean snarled.

“I’ll text you an address in a few hours. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The phone went dead. Swallowing, Dean shoved it back in his pocket, his stomach lurching. He wasn’t sure yet if he _loved_ Claire – that was a _very_ big word – but he cared very deeply for her and he felt responsible for her since he’d gotten her mother killed years earlier than before. If anything happened to her…god, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“She does have Claire?” Sam said, sitting down on one of the beds.

“She wants to trade Claire for Henry and the box. And we can’t let her get the box.” Dean numbly sank down on the other bed. “That box has the key to the supernatural mother lode. A whole bunker full of artefacts, books, scrolls, spells, ingredients…shit, everything.”

“I can understand why that would be important to you,” Henry said. “Information is –”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Dean said sharply. “Yeah, we can’t let her get her hands on that crap, but…back in the other timeline, we had to deal with these monsters. Leviathans.”

Henry and Castiel’s eyes bulged.

“ _Leviathans_?” Henry spluttered. “How – how did they escape from Purgatory?”

“The hell are Leviathans?” Bobby said as he sat down at the motel table with a groan. “What, that sea serpent thing from the Bible?”

“Nah,” Dean said. “Don’t worry, they’re not getting out in this timeline. But…they kinda burned your house down, Bobby.”

Bobby was quiet for a long, long moment. Then he pulled his flask out and took a very deep drink. “Balls,” he muttered.

“Yeah. And they – they got you too.” Dean grinned, but it fell flat and he knew it. “But you didn’t go down without a fight.”

“Course I didn’t,” Bobby said. “The fuck do you think I am?”

Henry looked utterly appalled by his language.

“You know, the only person you haven’t reacted weirdly to since coming back is Bobby,” Sam said. “I didn’t even know he – he died in your timeline.”

“He’s Bobby,” Dean said simply. Bobby grinned widely.

“Damn right, son.”

“I apologise for interrupting, but what does Bobby’s house have to do with this bunker you were talking about?” Henry said.

“Oh, right.” Dean held his hand out for Bobby to pass the flask because right now, he needed a goddamn drink. “So we had no home base and kinda drifted around for a bit, especially after Bobby…well, died. But then – but then you popped up with this key, and we originally planned on just checking the bunker out and seein’ if it had anything useful. But…”

“It became home?” Sam said softly. When Dean looked up at him, the wistful look on Sam’s face made something churn in his belly. He hadn’t realised just how much Sam had always craved a home – and as much of a home as Baby was, she was still just a small car.

“Yep. Memory foam and all. And –” He turned to Castiel, breath hitching. “And yeah, you said yes to Lucifer and let him out the second time, Cas. And I know we’re wiping the slate clean, but…the other you told me once Lucifer was gone that – that your safe place in your mind was in the bunker kitchen. So…I really, really don’t wanna let Abaddon have it if I can help it.”

It was a mark of how much having an actual home meant to them that even Henry fell silent, just staring around at everyone. Castiel’s eyes were shining rather suspiciously. Fuck, the angel never cried, and yet here he was, tearing up at the revelation that his safe space was Sam and Dean’s home. But it was more than that, Dean realised. It was the revelation that – that he _belonged_ with them. That their home was _his_ home. And when Dean smiled softly at Castiel, he knew that the angel immediately got everything he’d just thought.

“Alright.” Dean crossed over to his duffle and fished out a knife, then returned to the bed and popped the bullets out of his gun. “Last time, we carved some Devil’s Traps into our bullets and shot Abaddon with one. Kept her rooted to the spot. If we can do that again, it’ll make our lives so much easier.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry burst out, “but I – I’m still finding it rather hard to comprehend the fact that my grandsons are _hunters_.”

“Yeah, yeah, that ‘hunters are apes and we’re so much more civilised’ shit,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Heard it all before.”

“But – but hunters are so uncouth,” Henry said. “You shoot first and ask questions later. _We_ – We are preceptors, beholder, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand.”

“And you just hide in the shadows and drink tea and act all high and mighty.” Dean threw the bullet and knife down. “You know what? Spare me the brainwashed spiel. The Men of Letters are nothing but a bunch of sanctimonious, pole-up-the-ass bitches.”

“You mentioned that the British branch are rather…violent,” Henry said. “I’ve heard nothing of them, but we Americans are –”

“No better,” Dean snapped. “You sat back and pretended you were God’s fuckin’ gift and only shared what you knew with a few hunters. You think you’re so special for havin’ all that knowledge? Knowing doesn’t get shit done if you don’t _do_ something with the knowledge.”

“What exactly is the British branch like?” Sam said carefully. “The way you spoke about them…what exactly did they do to us in the other timeline?”

It was the puppy dog eyes that got him. Dean broke and recounted the entire year since Amara had resurrected Mary: what Lady Toni Bitchface had done to Sam; how Mick had had doubts and been killed; the tabs that the Brits were keeping on them; and just what Ketch and Toni had done to Mary. By the end of his tale, Sam’s eyes were bulging, Bobby looked stunned into silence, Castiel had migrated over to the bed to sit next to him and hold his hand, and Henry looked like he was going to throw up for the second time that day.

“You – we got to know _Mom_?” Sam’s hands were covering his mouth. Dean felt so bad for the poor guy.

“Don’t hold your breath, Sammy,” he said heavily. “She’s not all she’s cracked up to be. She didn’t even make her own pie, for Christ’s sake.”

It felt wrong to be badmouthing Mary after that whole going into her head thing, but fuck if Dean wasn’t still hurt that she’d up and ditched him for a bunch of British dickbags who’d tortured the shit out of her younger son. How had she been surprised when they turned on her?

“That – that goes against everything the Men of Letters stands for,” Henry said, voice quivering. He looked down at his hands. “The American branch – we’re _nothing_ like that. Yes, we may have greedily hoarded information, but –”

“Save it.” Dean gave a tired shrug, suddenly exhausted down to his bones. “I don’t care anymore. All I care about is my family. Everyone else can go to Hell.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Dean got up and left the room. It was fucking freezing outside, and he shivered and exhaled heavily, his breath escaping in a chilly mist. Why hadn’t he grabbed his jacket? A T-shirt and plaid shirt were not nearly enough to keep him warm.

“Here.” His jacket was thrust out to him, almost like magic. When Dean looked up, he was met with a small smile from Sam. “Thought you might be freezing your balls off.”

Dean’s words from earlier floated back to him, and he snorted and accepted the jacket, shrugging it on. “Thanks, Sammy.”

They stood there in silence, Dean watching the snow fall and Sam watching him.

“You can spit out whatever it is you’re nesting on,” Dean said. Sam jumped slightly, probably guilty at having been found out. “I won’t bite.”

“Was…was Mom really that bad?” Sam said hesitantly. “I just…you idolised her for so long. Put her up on a pedestal. I’m the only one who didn’t know her.”

“Which made it easier for you to deal with her bullshit,” Dean said with a shaky little laugh. “Nah, I’m bein’ unfair. She wasn’t bad and she did end up realising how much she’d hurt us and promising that we could start over. She just got shoved forward thirty years and wanted her apple pie family more than us. Couldn’t handle the fact that her baby boys were fully-grown hunters with a fuck-tonne of issues.” He almost revealed that Chuck would give her back if he succeeded, but he stopped himself at the last second. Best not to get Sam’s hopes up. “Maybe that’s why I’m bein’ a bit easier on Gramps this time around…I kinda get it, wanting to go back and fix things. ‘S kinda what _I’ve_ been doing.”

He was suddenly crushed in a tight hug. Wheezing, Dean lifted his arms and hugged Sam back helplessly, literally unable to do anything else. Okay, it was nice to get a Sammy hug, but he was going to die if Sam didn’t let him breathe.

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, Dean,” Sam said when he finally released Dean. “To be thrown back in time and be so alone. I mean, I know we’ve been here for you, but…we just don’t know, do we? You – you gotta miss the other Sam. The one you grew up with.”

“I do,” Dean admitted. “But like I told Cas, I made my peace. He’s gone. And honestly, he’s the one who pushed me into comin’ back. I didn’t want to at first but…man, how could I not? All the shit I’ve saved you that he went through…”

“Was – was I good?” Sam’s voice was just audible enough to be heard. “The other me, that is?”

Dean smiled softly and clapped Sam on the shoulder. “The best. I was so proud of him. But I got you now, so I had to get over him. You’re the one who needs me. Wish I could show you like I showed Cas his other self in my dreams.”

“How about thinking about yourself for once?” Sam elbowed Dean. “After all this is done, I want you to go and do whatever you wanna do. If that’s hunting, so be it. If you wanna settle down with Cas, go for it. But I’m a grown-up and I don’t need you holding my hand. And – And I’ve noticed you letting me be more independent since you got back. You haven’t been smothering me or acting suicidally codependent like you did before Hell.”

“I know,” Dean said with a quiet laugh. “I kinda had to learn to let you go and let you handle yourself.”

Sam smiled at him again, then turned and trekked back inside, feet crunching in the snow. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and stared up at the swirling grey clouds, which accurately represented the thoughts currently swimming around his mind.

It was in that moment that he was certain that he’d made the right decision by coming back. Oh, sure, he still missed the other Sam like mad. Thinking of everything they’d been through that had been erased was like a knife to his gut. But…it was starting to hurt way less, especially with Sam’s talk just then. Coming back in time really had been the right decision. This Sam was so…so young and carefree in comparison to the other Sam, who’d been through literal Hell. And Dean wasn’t oblivious enough to think that the other Sam had just magically been okay. Sure, other Sam had pasted a smile on his face and had been genuinely happy, but Dean wouldn’t be Dean if he couldn’t see right through that. He’d heard the occasional nightmares.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said a voice from behind Dean. Dean jumped and whirled, not having even heard the footsteps of Henry approaching.

“Nah.” He relaxed. “Nothing except my thoughts, which aren’t really the safest place to be.”

Henry hummed, green eyes fixed unwaveringly on Dean. Huh. Dean hadn’t realised that he’d gotten his eyes from this side of the family, because John’s eyes were dark – soft at first, then hardened with trauma and pain after the death of Mary.

“I actually want to ask you about Castiel,” Henry said. “I’ve noticed how you look at him. Are you…you know, jacketed?”

“Say, what?” Dean blinked.

“Oh.” Henry gave a nervous little laugh. “I apologise. I forgot that my language is now outdated. Are you dating him?”

Dean froze. Shit, was he that obvious? “You got a problem with your grandson liking dick?” he snapped.

“I wouldn’t put it so crudely,” Henry said, “but no. Actually, the fact that you’re dating an angel is harder for me to comprehend than the gender of his vessel. Since he’s a being of God, if he sees no problem with dating somebody of his vessel’s gender, it mustn’t be a sin. And I want to apologise if I gave you the impression that you couldn’t be comfortable with him in front of me. I have to admit…as much as I love your grandmother, I wasn’t being entirely honest with myself when I began courting her.”

“How so?” Dean said, his shoulders slumping as he allowed himself to relax. John hadn’t been actively hateful towards queer people but being gay was definitely something for men who weren’t his sons, to put it briefly.

“I had feelings for her but…I also carried a spark for James Smith, my neighbour.” Henry couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he said this. “I’ve never told anybody. I was already hardly the most likeable person and I would have been seen as an easy target if people learned that I – I had homosexual feelings. And James wasn’t the first. I – I married Millie because it was easier. I loved her with all my heart – I still do, even though I’m coming to accept that I won’t ever see her again – but I also felt like I was…lying to myself, if you follow?”

“Don’t worry, I totally get it,” Dean said with a quiet little laugh. “I’m into chicks too, but it _does_ feel like you’re takin’ the easy way out and lyin’ to yourself in a way, even if you genuinely like the girl. Took me years and a whole other timeline to get to this point where I realised that it was okay to like dudes as well as chicks and it didn’t make me a liar to like one or the other. I wasn’t confused. And it didn’t mean I was some kinky sex freak who wanted threesomes all the time or whatever those stereotypes are.”

“I don’t think that gender would matter to me,” Henry said. Dean wasn’t sure when they’d gone on to have a Good Old Gay Talk, but it felt so goddamn good to finally talk to someone who actually got it. As much as Sam tried to be the good baby brother and talk about feelings, he couldn’t understand. He was totally straight, as far as Dean knew.

“What d’you mean?”

“Man, woman…other. I’m not sure how much understanding of other genders has advanced, but we Men of Letters had compiled lore on a large number of different cultures. Many of them believed in more than two genders, and I felt like a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders at the realisation that it wasn’t _wrong_ for me to be this way, and I wasn’t _wrong_ for believing in more than the rigid gender binary in American society.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “Might have to ask Cas. If anyone’d know, he would.”

“You seem to hold Castiel in very high regard.” The way Henry looked at Dean was a very clear sign that this was one person he’d never be able to bullshit about something like this. “I see the way you look at him.”

“I love him, Henry,” Dean said quietly, noting that this was the first time he’d addressed Henry by name. “And he loves me too for _some_ reason, even though the other angels disapprove. The shit he went through with them in the other timeline ‘cause of it…and I was too chickenshit to do anything in that timeline. That’s – that’s why I came back. It was God himself who sent me back.”

To his credit, Henry didn’t do the “dying in surprise” act over learning that Dean had met God. He’d probably had too many shocks all at once, the poor bastard.

“God sent you back so that you could date one of His children?” Henry said instead.

“Not exactly,” Dean said. “And quit with the capital ‘H’ and all. I can hear it in your voice. He’s kind of an informal guy, so long as you don’t insult him. No…I ended up watching Cas die in front of me. Again. And Ch – God always brought him back before, but he wanted me to go back this time and fix things. And I reckon I’m doin’ it.”

“If it’s worth anything to you, I’m very proud of you,” Henry said. “My rudeness has been inexcusable, but I really am proud to call you my grandson. Sam, too. And I’d be honoured to call Bobby my friend, and Castiel…I would say grandson-in-law, but I take it you’re still not allowed to marry?”

“Not yet,” Dean said. “Give it another five and a half years. June 2015. That’s when I’ll make Cas an honest man. Angel. Whatever. That is, if he’ll have me. Thanks, Obama.”

Henry clearly chose not to comment on the unfamiliar reference. “You know, I’m certain he will have you. The way he looks at you…it’s the way I found myself looking at Millie.” Henry’s face fell. “I simply assumed earlier, but am I right to think that she’s no longer alive?”

“Yep. Died just before I was born.”

“I’m relieved, in a way. I must have broken her heart when I disappeared. And if she was alive, I couldn’t in good faith stay away from her…but I would have only caused her more pain.”

“I feel ya.”

“I can’t speak for John, but you’ve got my blessing, Dean.” Henry reached out and rested a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean absolutely refused to admit just how much it meant to have that approval. Before he had to respond to that, his phone pinged, and his stomach twisted upon pulling it out and finding an address underneath Claire’s contact name.

“Showtime.” He stashed his phone away, then turned to head inside and grab the others.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I’m so goddamn happy the bunker’s back. Y’all have no idea how much I love the place. It felt like coming home when I wrote their reactions to it, I swear – more so than Hogwarts, and that felt like home for years.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

The location that Abaddon had texted them turned out to be an abandoned warehouse ten minutes away from the motel. They parked a short distance from the huge grey building, then did a quick check to make sure they had everything they needed.

“Right,” Dean said, pulling a length of rope out of the Impala’s trunk. “Turn around, Gramps.”

“I really do wish you would stop calling me that, Dean,” Henry said, but he turned around and allowed Dean to loosely bind his hands behind his back. Dean made sure to tie the rope tightly enough that Henry wouldn’t accidentally slip free and ruin the plan, but loose enough that he could easily free himself without complications. With that done, Dean tucked the gun full of Devil’s Trap bullets into Henry’s pocket.

“There’s no way she’s just gonna let us take Claire,” Dean said. “So, the sooner you get a bullet in her, Gramps, the better chance we got.”

“I won’t let you down,” Henry said rather solemnly. Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Right – c’mon.” He took Henry’s arm and guided his time-travelling grandfather into the warehouse, with Sam, Castiel, and Bobby following behind.

“Don’t do this. Please,” Henry pleaded on cue when they passed the doorway. And damn, he was a good actor. Dean had really underestimated the guy.

“Too late for that now.”

Waiting in the centre of the large space were two figures. Abaddon greeted them with a cold smile, now dressed in a black T-shirt, black leather jacket, and skinny black jeans tucked into combat boots. Dean really hoped that she hadn’t murdered some poor schmuck for her outfit like last time, but he was probably just deluding himself.

But it was the sight of the girl standing next to her that really set Dean’s blood boiling. Claire’s shaking hands were bound in front of her, the only thing that gave away just how terrified she really was. Otherwise, she was glaring up at Abaddon, jaw set and bright blue eyes alight with defiance. A blossoming bruise was starting to spread across her left cheek, and blood trickled from a cut on her lip. Abaddon was going to fucking _pay_ for touching Claire. And one sideways glance at the dark look on Castiel’s face told Dean that the angel felt the exact same way.

“That’s the problem with you hunters,” Henry said, still stubbornly sticking to their script. Dean kind of appreciated that; it gave him something to focus on so that he wouldn’t just ruin everything and get Claire killed in his anger. “You’re all so short-sighted.”

“Yeah? Well, at least we’re not extinct,” Dean said. He shot Abaddon the most poisonous look he could muster. “Abaddon! I’ll send Henry over with the box.” He pulled the key out of Henry’s coat pocket. “You do the same with Claire. No tricks.”

“I’ve got no interest in you,” Abaddon sang as Dean pulled off a quick sleight-of-hand and switched the box with a pack of cards, which he slid into Henry’s pocket. “You’re free to go.”

Dean shoved Henry, who refused to budge.

“You can do this standing, or you can do it crawling.” Dean pulled out his gun. “Your call.”

When Henry finally squared his shoulders and set off, Abaddon waved her hand to send Claire stumbling forward. Dean was rather impressed that Claire refused to break down and cry when she reached them, but instead stood there with a look of steely determination on her face as Castiel pushed forward and untied her.

“I was worried about you, Claire,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m relieved that you’re safe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claire rolled her eyes, but Dean wasn’t fooled by her act of indifference.

“Bobby, get her outta here,” he muttered. “Abaddon’s gonna backstab us.”

Bobby grabbed Claire by the arm and hauled her out of the warehouse before Abaddon could seal the doors. To be honest, Dean was rather surprised that Abaddon hadn’t reacted to keep Bobby and Claire trapped, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Not so fast!” Abaddon called when the rest of them turned as though to leave, though in reality they were waiting for Henry’s move. The doors in front of them slammed shut and stood fast. “Change of plans, honey.”

“We had a deal!” Sam snapped. Dean wasn’t surprised at all – hell, this was how it had gone last time – but Abaddon was regarding them with a gleam that hadn’t been present the first time around.

“Surprise. I lied.” Abaddon laughed and looked right at Castiel. “I want one more thing. I want the angel as well.”

“No.” Dean immediately pushed Castiel behind him, glaring at Henry to get him to hurry the fuck up. “No fucking way. That wasn’t part of the deal. Henry and the box for Claire.”

“You’re not really in a position of power to make demands, are you?” Abaddon said. “I said I’d give you the girl in exchange for Henry and the box, but I never said you could go free. But if Hot Wings there stays behind, the rest of you can go. Swear to – well, I’d say God, but that would be blasphemy.”

“Dean –”

“No!” Dean cut Castiel off. “She’s a lying bitch. You’re not giving yourself up, Cas.”

“But I can’t just stand here and let her kill you!” Castiel said.

“You really think she’ll let us go?”

“I’m a woman of my word!” Abaddon said.

“Who’s to say she won’t just come after us later?” Sam said. “Letting us go now doesn’t mean anything.”

Before Castiel could argue, there was a gunshot. Henry had gotten his hands free and tried to shoot Abaddon, but she was much more on guard this time – probably because she hadn’t fatally wounded him – and she dodged the bullet easily.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Abaddon said with a very shark-like grin. “Betrayal. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that, fellas.”

Henry, very wisely, darted away from Abaddon before she could shish-kebab him like she had last time. Dean whipped out the Colt and fired, but Abaddon had clearly been expecting this because she held out a hand and redirected the bullet right back at Dean. He didn’t even have enough time to dodge…but that didn’t matter, because Castiel was in front of him faster than light and shielding him. The bullet grazed Castiel across the side and he hissed and doubled over, clutching at the bright, blue-white grace leaking out of the wound.

“ _Cas_!” Dean tried to get a good look at the wound, but Abaddon threw out a hand to freeze them all to the spot. The Colt was wrenched out of Dean’s hands and went flying to Abaddon, who deftly caught it.

“Nice gun,” Abaddon said examining the Colt all over. “Truly remarkable workmanship. It would be a shame if something was to happen to it, wouldn’t it?”

“No!” Dean exclaimed, but it was no use. The Colt glowed for a moment, then split apart in Abaddon’s hands with a loud _crack_ just as it had done with Dagon last time. Abaddon let the useless pieces of the gun clatter to the ground, smiling wickedly straight at him.

“Much better,” she said. “Now that we’ve got that pesky little detail out of the way, how about you be a doll and give me the box and the sorry excuse for an angel?”

“Why don’t you come and take them?” Sam sneered, trying to angle himself in front of Henry while rooted to the spot. “The Colt’s gone.”

“Well, that’s no fun, is it?” Abaddon said. “But thanks for volunteering to help.” She clenched her fist and Sam was launched through the air with a cry, crashing to the ground just in front of Abaddon. She knelt and grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair, wrenching his head back and grinning when he gasped in pain.

“Get your hands off my brother, you bitch!” Dean snarled. Abaddon’s influence on them had waned, so he was able to charge straight at her, but she had pulled Sam to his feet in the blink of an eye and wrapped an arm around his throat.

“Stay right there, hot stuff,” Abaddon drawled, resting her free palm against Sam’s ear. “Now, give me Henry, the box, and the fallen angel, or I’ll snap baby brother’s neck. That enough incentive for you?”

Sam growled and shook his head as best as he could, but Abaddon just tightened her grip on him. Dean looked from Sam to Castiel wildly, unable to choose between his brother and the guy he was in love with, praying for a miracle so he wouldn’t _have_ to choose. Sam always came first…but it was _Castiel_ …but Dean couldn’t let his brother die…but he loved Castiel too, how was he supposed to choose –

“Dean.” Castiel straightened up by hauling himself up with Dean’s jacket, though he was still clutching his side. “Take Sam and go.”

“You’re not giving yourself up, you son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice hitched. “Don’t you dare –”

“Tick tock,” Abaddon said, pushing on Sam’s head hard enough to wrench a groan out of him. “Come on, Dean. You know what the right decision is here.”

Dean bit his lip, looking from Sam to Castiel and then back at Sam. They needed help. They needed someone powerful enough to take on Abaddon. But they didn’t know anyone like that. No one except –

“Fine.” Abaddon’s patience had worn thin. “You don’t want to choose, you can lose both. Down goes Sam, then I’ll take what I want anyway.”

“Gabriel!” Dean shouted desperately. “Gabriel, it’s Abaddon! We need you!”

 _Crack_. Sam went down like a sack of bricks, unmoving, and Dean let out a bellow and charged at a laughing Abaddon. But before he could reach her, he was thrown back by an invisible force and flew into Castiel, both of them toppling to the ground at Henry’s feet.

“Welly, well, well.” Gabriel conjured a lollipop and popped it into his mouth, while Abaddon’s eyes widened and she started to back away. “You guys really got yourselves in the shit this time, didn’t you?”

“You!” Abaddon spat. She threw her head back, her vessel screaming as black smoke poured from her mouth, but Gabriel was faster; he was by her side in a heartbeat, forcing her essence back into her meat suit with a glowing hand and then pressing his palm flat against her mouth to smite her. Dean was forced to avert his eyes during the smiting, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of vindictive satisfaction at the sight of Abaddon’s body crumpled on the ground, eyes burnt out of her sockets. But then reality quickly sank in.

“Sam!”

Before Dean could even take a step, Gabriel was sighing loudly and kneeling to press two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and Sam shot up with a gasp. Then Gabriel crossed over to Castiel’s side and healed his wound with a touch that Dean would describe as tender if it wasn’t…well, Gabriel.

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel said loudly while Sam felt up every inch of his neck, as though making sure that everything was in order after dying for the umpteenth time. “Deano, you have an extraordinary habit of attracting trouble.”

“This wasn’t even my fault!” Dean protested. Gabriel snorted,

“Yeah, I’m just messin’ with ya. Guess what? I’m officially on Team Winchester now!”

Confetti and party poppers appeared and exploded, blanketing the warehouse in multicoloured strips of paper. Dean scowled and blew red and green strands off his face.

“What changed?” he said. “Thought you didn’t wanna get involved with the Apocalypse.”

“Well, after Cassie asked me for help finding the Lance of Douchebag, I’ve come to realise that you seem to know everything, bucko,” Gabriel said. “And since I clearly didn’t survive last time, I figure my best chance is sticking with the guy who at least has an idea of what’s coming. I mean, if ya know how I died last time, that won’t happen _this_ time.”

“Selfish bastard,” Dean muttered, though he couldn’t actually be pissed. Gabriel’s reasoning was sound, not to mention that having an archangel in their corner would be utterly invaluable, so he wasn’t going to complain. And besides, he’d just brought Sam back and healed Castiel, and that was after helping to save Castiel from Alastair last year. Dean supposed this made up for all the Trickster shit he’d pulled before. “Henry, you doin’ okay?”

“Shaken,” Henry said with a nervous little laugh, dusting off his suit. “But alive, so I suppose I have no room to complain. Are you – is that really the archangel Gabriel?”

“Oooh, a fan!” Gabriel grinned. “Always love to meet my adoring groupies. And you’re Henry Winchester, granddaddy to these two sweet pieces of ass. I’m pretty sure we all felt that massive rip you tore in time.”

“Don’t start feelin’ bad or anything,” Dean said to an alarmed Henry. “Just Gabriel bein’ Gabriel. C’mon, we gotta go let Bobby know we’re alive so he doesn’t come running in with guns blazing, then we gotta get over to Lebanon to open this bunker.”

“Bunker?” Gabriel’s ears pricked in interest. “Do tell. How warded are we talking?”

“Try the safest place on Earth,” Dean said. “Even the Darkness had trouble getting inside. And no, don’t ask,” he added before anyone could pick on that.

“Now you’re speaking my language! Gimme coordinates, Deano.”

Once Dean gave Gabriel a location, the archangel snapped his fingers and they were suddenly outside, blinking in the bright white landscape. Claire and Bobby were waiting by the Impala, and Gabriel didn’t even give them a chance to speak before he was snapping his fingers again to transport all of them, plus Baby, to a familiar grey building on top of a hill.

“That’s it?” Bobby said. “Not that secure if ya ask me.”

“It’s all an illusion, my dear man,” Dean said, waving his hands. He snickered at Bobby’s muttered curses as he descended the stairs to the small, unassuming door in the side of the hill, then took the box out of his pocket, having hidden it there after switching it with the cards. He turned to face the others as he pulled the key out. “Behold!”

“Just get on with it,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. Grinning, Dean turned back to the door and, actually bouncing on the spot, he stuck the key in the lock and turned. And oh boy, opening the door was practically an orgasmic experience.

“Whoa…” Sam said in awe when they were all inside and Dean had opened the switch box up to turn the lights on. “All this…it’s amazing! Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard…this was their nerve centre!”

“This must be how we relayed vital information to the select few hunters we partnered with,” Henry said faintly when they were downstairs, turning to look in all directions. “I never even knew that this place existed. This must have been what they intended to tell me after my initiation.”

“Well, no wonder Abaddon wanted it,” Bobby said, looking the bookshelves up and down. “Ya got stuff here that’d make hunters everywhere sell their souls for even a piece of it.”

“This was your home?” Castiel said, drawing level with Dean. Dean just grinned and nodded, taking Castiel’s hand, and no, he was _not_ fucking crying at finally having his home back, thank you very much.

“Screw that, this is _my_ new home!” Gabriel said gleefully, snapping up a plush armchair at the head of one of the long tables and throwing himself into it. “The wards are fucking _amazing_ , guys! No way my brothers’ll find me in here!”

“I got first dibs on rooms!” Dean tore his hand out of Castiel’s so that he could run to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “No way am I givin’ up my memory foam to anyone!”

It wasn’t until Dean had skidded to a halt in his room, which was as bare and bland as every other room at the moment, that the full realisation of it hit him. He was _home_. Yeah, the bunker was just a blank canvas right now, but it wouldn’t take much to make it home again. Stock the fridge, get some real good-quality bedding, decorate his room, wear in his dead guy robe again…hell, even carve his initials into the table again. He was _home_.

“You look very happy,” Castiel commented from the doorway. Dean turned and beamed at him.

“I am.” Dean’s insides soared and floated as he sat down on the bed. “I just – Cas, I’m _home_. And if we can gank Lucifer, I can actually _enjoy_ havin’ a home without bullshit after bullshit new crisis drowning me. I – shit, I wanted to strangle Chuck when I first got here, but now…now I wanna send him a goddamn fruit basket.”

Something pleasant tingled in Dean’s forehead. He wouldn’t have thought much of it, except that it was right where he used to get headaches for badmouthing Chuck, so he decided to take it as a good sign.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Castiel said, crossing over to sit next to Dean. “Seeing you happy makes me very happy.”

“Well, you can have a room all to yourself,” Dean said. “Hopefully you’ll decorate it more than the other you did. Or…maybe you can share mine. If ya want.”

A wide smile split Castiel’s face. “I would love nothing more than to share your room with you. I didn’t truly understand how much this would mean to you until I saw how you behaved when Gabriel brought us here.”

Dean went to kiss Castiel on the cheek, but there was something in the angel’s voice that stopped Dean in his tracks. “What’s up?” he said. “You sound like someone kicked your puppy.”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “The Colt…that bullet…” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “It…took a huge chunk of my grace when it struck me. Gabriel may have healed the physical wound, but…Dean, I’m all but human now. My wings are gone…I barely have enough grace to keep the bare minimum of control over my bodily functions, let alone anything else. I’m useless now.”

“No!” Dean jabbed Castiel in the chest, his stomach churning and twisting. “You’re not useless, Cas. Shit, this is my fault – if I hadn’t –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Castiel reached out to silence Dean with a finger on the lips. “None of this is your fault. I made my choice, remember? I just…thought I would have more time before my grace had depleted.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel sighed and leaned in to press their lips together, and anything Dean might have been thinking dissolved into nothingness.

* * *

 

They didn’t emerge from Dean’s room for another ten minutes, and they were greeted by a slew of knowing smirks and lewd winks from everybody in the main room except for Claire, who was too young to catch on, and Henry, who was adorably clueless in the face of Dean and Castiel’s mussed hair and messy clothes. Maybe they didn’t have this kind of thing in the fifties, or maybe Henry was just obliviously innocent.

“Made sure to give Cas a very thorough tour, did you?” Sam grinned. Dean just rolled his eyes and flipped Sam off.

“I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Claire said, squinting at Dean and Castiel. “Did you guys do gross stuff in there?”

“What? No!” Dean said. “All hands above waists, all clothes on. Why the fuck are you all so invested in me and Cas?”

“I’m not usually the one to bring up the serious shit,” Gabriel announced loudly, “but I’m gonna be the Samsquatch of the group and point out that we need to figure out how we’re gonna kick my brother up the ass.”

“Kinky,” Dean drawled, while Sam put on Bitchface #99. Gabriel raised his fingers threateningly, ready to click. “Fine. We got the Rod of Aaron stashed at Bobby’s, so –”

“Already on it,” Gabriel said. “Went to get it while you and Cassie were…ahem, doing your thing.” His shit-eating grin made Dean want to slap him. “I got your timeline notes as well. Man, you really went through shit, didn’t ya?”

“You got no idea,” Dean muttered.

“And now I’m off to find my sweet baby sister,” Gabriel said. “She can’t get through these delicious wards if one of us don’t let her in.”

“Shit.” Dean face-palmed. “I totally forgot about Anna. Don’t tell her about that, okay? She’ll kill me.”

Gabriel flapped off with a particularly evil grin that didn’t do anything to reassure Dean. No sooner had Dean settled in a chair than Gabriel was back with Anna, who blinked and stared around the bunker in awe.

“What the hell have _you_ been up to?” she said. “I disappear for a few months to find Famine and Pestilence, then I come back and find that you’ve got some warded safehouse and your grandfather was actually a time-traveller who brought a Knight of Hell with him. That’s the last time I go off to do the boring stuff.”

“ _Another_ angel?” Henry stared at Anna with something bordering on awe.

“Gramps, meet Anna,” Dean said. “I mentioned her. Hadraniel’s apparently her angel name, but she cut out her grace and fell to be born as a human. Then…shit happened.”

“You cut out your grace?” Henry sprang to his feet and began to examine Anna, circling her to get a good look. “So this body is yours? It’s not a vessel? Do you have a soul, or did your grace somehow envelop it? Is that possible?”

“Uh…” Anna sidled away from Henry, who had the grace to look abashed.

“I apologise for my rudeness, Anna. We just…none of us had any notes on this kind of angelic phenomenon.”

“Bet you’re glad ya stayed here, then,” Bobby said. “Hey, Mars Bar, ya mind makin’ this seat comfier for me?”

“Sure.” Gabriel snapped Bobby’s wooden chair into another comfy armchair. “Gotta look out for our senior citizens, after all.”

“Fuck off,” Bobby said cheerfully, taking a swig from his flask. “Ya have a few millennia on me, so ya got no room to talk. Man, I need a good drink.”

“Touché,” Gabriel said and conjured a bottle of expensive whiskey for Bobby, who cackled in delight and popped it open.

“I’m bored,” Claire announced. “Is there anything for me to do in this dump, since I’m not allowed to help out?”

“I can send you into a pocket dimension,” Gabriel said. “That’ll keep ya busy, squirt.”

“Uh…on second thoughts, sitting here quietly doesn’t seem so bad,” Claire said quickly. Gabriel grinned, then snapped his fingers to heal her of her Abaddon-inflicted wounds.

“Getting back on track, what if the Rod fails?” Sam said. “Dean, you mentioned a Plan C, but you didn’t sound so excited about it.”

“Getting all the rings of the Horsemen, then somehow pushing Lucifer into that portal?” Dean said. “I’m sure you can guess why that’s a horrible idea.”

“Man, and you thought that’d work,” Gabriel snickered.

“It was your plan originally, asshat,” Dean retorted. The satisfaction at shutting Gabriel up was just…beautiful. “And it did work. It just…caused a bunch more problems. So I’d really prefer not to do that. We need a new Plan C before Mike and Luci get desperate for their vessels.”

“My archangel blade’ll do the trick in a pinch,” Gabriel said rather reluctantly. “But seeing as it’s gotta be used by an archangel, I’d really rather the Rod plan work. And I read your notes, Deano. I got shivved by Luci last time.”

“If it’s any consolation, Sammy was genuinely upset,” Dean said. “And I…kinda was. I was grateful for the help, anyway.”

“I’m flattered,” Gabriel deadpanned.

“Well, speaking of Horsemen,” Anna said, “I’m dumping that on you now, Gabriel. I’ve been working myself into an early grave trying to find them when they don’t want to be found, and I’ve already had to kill the Whore of Babylon when I found her. I’m surprised I was considered holy enough to qualify, to be honest.”

“Sure thing, baby sis.” Gabriel conjured a chocolate bar, then took a huge bite out of it. “I’ll go find ‘em and deal with that can of worms. You take Grumps and Princess back to Sioux Falls.”

“Can I say a bad word?” Claire said.

“Sure,” Dean said.

“Fuck off.”

Bobby choked on his drink, so Anna reached over and slapped him on the back.

“Well, I know when I’m unwanted,” Gabriel said with a long sigh, dramatically swooning. “Goodbye, assholes who I don’t like and am only sticking with because of this sweet-ass bunker.”

“Then why did you help Dean rescue me from Alastair?” Castiel said. “If you’re only doing this for your own protection, why would you expose yourself like that?”

“That’s it.” Gabriel jabbed a finger at Castiel, while Dean snorted into his hand. “You’re no longer my favourite baby brother. I’m leaving so you lot can’t keep wounding my poor feelings.”

He vanished. Smirking, Anna took Bobby and Claire by the hand and disappeared as well.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said to a near-catatonic Henry. “You get used to all of this.”

“Liar,” Dean said. “We’re the best fuckin’ mess around.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

Logically, when an archangel brings you your notes on future events, one would take the time to look back over them and refresh their memory so that they can be prepared for upcoming events. But no, Dean had been so busy breaking the bunker in and stressing over how to find Lucifer that he hadn’t even bothered to look.

So really, it was his own fault for not remembering that whole dead rising thing when a frantic Anna dropped into the bunker and yelled that the dead of Sioux Falls had been reanimated and Bobby and Claire were about to be zombie chow.

“Seriously?” Dean complained when he, Sam, and Castiel touched down in Bobby’s living room with Anna. He whipped out his gun at the sight of the pale blonde woman advancing on Bobby and Claire in the corner, where Bobby was shielding Claire and holding a gun up shakily. “Dude, my burger’s gonna be cold!”

“Well, sorry to be such an inconvenience, your highness,” Bobby snapped, not looking away from his undead wife even a fraction. “Woulda thought you’d know about this, bein’ future guy and all.”

“Please,” Karen Singer pleaded. “Please – I’m so hungry – I can’t stop –”

Dean fired, lodging a bullet in her head. She crumpled to the ground, unmoving, with Bobby’s wide eyes fixed on her.

“Get off me!” Claire wriggled out from behind Bobby. “I coulda taken her.”

“Claire,” Sam warned. Claire took one glance at the shattered look on Bobby’s face and immediately shut up.

“I’m sorry, Bobby.” Dean wanted to clap Bobby on the shoulder but figured that the older man wasn’t exactly in the mood to be comforted. “I shoulda remembered.”

“Don’t be an idjit.” Bobby sounded normal and unaffected, but Dean could see right through him. “Not like ya can remember everythin’, ‘specially if this happened a decade ago for ya.”

“I had my notes. I should’ve been lookin’ at them to keep track of stuff.”

“Have your guilt trip later,” Anna said. “We have zombies to deal with now. I don’t even know what they are – they’re not revenants and I’ve never seen this kind of thing.”

“Death.” Bobby dropped his gun on his desk and crossed his arms, refusing to look around at any of them. “It was Death. And Karen told me why he was here. He came from me.”

“Oh, shit.” Dean could’ve slapped himself. “It was to get to Bobby. ‘Cause he’s stopping Sam from saying yes to Lucifer, and Lucifer’s got Death under his thumb.”

“We should probably kill the other undead before they devour the people of Sioux Falls,” Castiel said suddenly, head tilted to the side. “My grace may be mostly depleted, but I can still sense the remnants of Death all around the town.”

A sudden memory struck Dean. “Jody!” He whirled to face Anna. “Jody Mills – her son – you gotta take me –”

Anna grabbed Dean’s hand, and Bobby’s living room melted into a completely different one. There was a bloody corpse on the floor, missing great chunks of flesh, and a familiar brunette was backed into a corner by a small boy with a bloodstained mouth.

“Anna, get her!” Dean snapped, pulling out his gun. Jody shrieked when Anna reappeared next to her, but then the two of them were gone and Dean was left with Jody’s zombified son. The boy turned to face Dean now that Dean was his only viable prey.

“I’m hungry,” the boy pleaded. A drop of blood trickled down his chin, leaving a bright red track as it went. “Please. I’m so hungry.”

“Sorry, kid.” Dean aimed and fired, and the boy crashed to the ground. When he made it outside, he was confronted with a half-hysterical Jody, while Anna gingerly touched her bleeding nose.

“Not one word,” Anna grumbled when Dean smirked at her. “She took me by surprise.”

“Because you just grabbed me and – what was that disappearing thing and – and that wasn’t my son!” Jody burst out.

“Anna’s an angel,” Dean said. “And don’t pull that ‘no, it can’t be, angels don’t exist’ bullshit because you literally just had your son come back from the dead and then go all walker on your ass. Look, we’re friends of Bobby Singer’s –”

“Great, you’re with the town drunk?” Jody said with a half-mad laugh.

“Hey, at least he knows how to take care of this shit,” Dean said, crossing his arms. “So I wouldn’t be complaining. Look, where can we take civilians where the zombies won’t take them?”

Jody swallowed, visibly composing herself. Man, Dean missed her. “Jail. Should be secure.”

“Right. Anna, your blade’ll gank ‘em, right?”

“Should do,” Anna said.

“Okay. Angel blades and headshots. Let’s go.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” Dean said when they were gathered in front of a funeral pyre in the local graveyard after the zombie problem had been taken care of. “I know I apologised before but…I shoulda looked at my notes. I mean, why the hell else write them if I ain’t gonna use ‘em?”

“And I’ll tell ya again,” Bobby said. “Stop bein’ an idjit. No one’s perfect.”

“Right.” Dean’s shoulders slumped. “I just…it really cut you the first time around. I kinda feel like I fucked up ‘cause you had to go through it again.”

“I ain’t some wiltin’ flower,” Bobby said. “I’ll be okay, boy. Eventually. Look, if ya wanna be sappy with someone, go check on Claire. Reckon it shook her up a bit.”

Dean clapped Bobby on the shoulder, then crossed over to stand next to Claire a short distance away. “You alright?” he said.

“I’m fine,” Claire said straight away. “If Bobby sent you to check on me –”

“Right, forgive me for caring about my friends,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. Claire had the decency to look away.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just…I’m not delicate. I’m fine. Maybe if – if it was my mom or something, but…zombies are just generally creepy.”

“I hear ya,” Dean said. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the bright orange flames flickering and crackling against the night sky, and then Dean caught sight of Jody talking to Anna nearby. He grinned and nudged Claire. “Hey. Jody Mills is pretty cool. I reckon you should get to know her.”

Claire saw through him in a heartbeat. “Are you just saying that because of the other timeline?” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Maaaaaybe,” Dean said. “But you’ll love her, trust me. Besides, doesn’t hurt to have the officials on your side in case you ever need a cover-up.” He winked at Claire, who giggled.

“Claire.” Castiel had come out of freaking nowhere. How the hell did he still do that without his grace? “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine! Why does everyone keep asking?”

“Because despite everything you’ve been through, you are still a child.”

“I’m gonna be thirteen next month!”

“Does that really matter?”

Claire scowled and crossed her arms but mumbled, “No.”

“Nothin’ wrong with people worrying about ya,” Dean said, ruffling Claire’s hair. She let out a protest and ducked away from him. “And there’s a difference between worrying and babying. Hell, Sam and Bobby let ya shoot zombies, didn’t they? We just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I suppose,” Claire said grudgingly.

“We care about you a lot, Claire,” Castiel said. Claire stared at him for a moment, then surprised the absolute hell out of Dean by jumping at Castiel and quickly throwing her arms around him, then darting off towards Anna and Jody. It barely even qualified as a hug, but the wide smile that split Castiel’s face would fool one into thinking that Claire had shouted her love to the sky.

“Aww, she likes you,” Dean teased, nudging Castiel.

“I’m very happy,” Castiel said. “I still feel awful for what I did to Jimmy and Amelia. Having Claire’s forgiveness will go a long way.”

Dean grinned and grabbed Castiel’s hand, squeezing it. “Wanna go for a walk?” he said.

“Yes. It would be nice to clear my head after the events of tonight.”

They didn’t go too far; near enough to the pyre that they could still see everyone, but far away enough that they could talk and get away with kissing without being noticed. Dean wasn’t worried about anyone being homophobic – hell, they could go suck it – but it felt a little insensitive to be kissing his boyfriend in front of so many townspeople who had lost their loved ones again.

“So, this was Death’s doing,” Castiel said. “He wanted to intimidate Bobby?”

“I don’t think he wanted to do anything,” Dean said. “It’s Lucifer throwing a temper tantrum ‘cause Sam won’t say yes. I talked to Death a few times after we shoved Lucifer back in the Cage, and he really didn’t seem to give a shit. Except for fried food.”

“Death…loves fried food?”

Dean snickered at the adorable look of confusion on Castiel’s face and leaned in to peck him on the lips. “Especially fried pickle chips.”

Castiel just shook his head. “We need to think of a plan to defeat Lucifer. We have the Rod, but I don’t see how we could force Lucifer into a confrontation on our terms. We would need to –” His head whipped around.

“What?” Dean said, but Castiel barely had enough time to shove Dean behind him before the unpleasantly familiar sound of rustling wings filled the air. In the blink of an eye, they were surrounded by four angels. “Oh, fuckin’ fantastic. Just what we need right now.”

“Hello, Dean,” Barachiel said. She squinted at him. “You’re a hard man to track down. Must be that nice warding carved into your ribs. I’m assuming that was Castiel’s work?”

“Look, my answer’s still no,” Dean said. “So you can fuck right off.”

“What do you possibly have to gain by saying no?” Barachiel said. “Come on, Dean. Surely you can see that with every day you delay, more people die! Are you really going to let your selfishness take more human lives than necessary?”

Oh, she was good. Way better than Zachariah. But Dean wasn’t born yesterday. “Look, I ain’t gonna let Michael total the planet in his little death match.”

“It doesn’t have to be that drastic!” Barachiel said. “If we can catch Lucifer in his weakened vessel, the damage may be able to be contained!”

“ _May_ be?” Dean said. “Look, lady, sit on it and spin. My answer’s no and it’ll always be no.”

“Is that so?” Barachiel said rather coolly. Her change in tone from politely friendly to chilly threw Dean off-guard. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Before Dean could even react, the angel behind him had him in a chokehold, wrenching his right arm behind his back before he could even grab his gun. Castiel let out a cry and charged with his angel blade, but he was weaker than the other two angels who hadn’t fallen and it was a simple matter for them to disarm him and twist his arms behind his back. Dean tried to call out back at the funeral pyre, to attract someone’s attention and let them know that he and Castiel were being kidnapped, but two fingers were pressed to his forehead and everything went black.

* * *

Man, Dean hated being angel-whammied. It was always so slow to claw his way out of unconsciousness, and he was always left with a lingering stabbing pain behind his left eye for some unexplainable reason. Except for when Cas did it back in the other timeline. Maybe Cas was deliberately gentle with him.

The first thing he became aware of was that his arms were bound above his head, but he was slumped on the ground. This meant that there was no strain being put on his arms unless he was to lie down, and he couldn’t really fathom why he’d want to do that in a clearly hostile situation. Groaning and blinking, he looked up and found that his arms were tied to a metal ring drilled into the concrete wall he was reclining against, and a quick sweep of his surroundings told him that he was in some abandoned warehouse. Why was it always the abandoned warehouses?

“Ah, Dean.” A pair of smart pants entered his field of view. When Dean looked up, he was met with the sight of Barachiel looming over him, a pleasant smile on her face. “Good to see that you’re awake. I’d hate to have done lasting damage to Michael’s vessel.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Dean snapped, tugging on his bonds. Barachiel’s smile just widened.

“I wouldn’t be so disrespectful.” She gestured behind her, and Dean’s heart leapt into his chest at the sight of Castiel being held tightly by two angels, his hands cuffed in front of him with what were undoubtedly Enochian cuffs. The fact that Castiel was all but graceless and was still having what tiny shreds he had left locked away was so cruel that Dean’s stomach churned, and he had to swallow heavily and look away.

“Let him go.” Dean’s voice was so quiet and cold that it sent shivers down even his spine. Barachiel’s smile faltered for a split second.

“No,” she said. “I’m done playing nice with you, Dean. I gave you time to think and I waited for you. I just couldn’t find you before now.”

“Wow, and Anna reckons you’re the nice one,” Dean muttered. He yanked on his bonds again, trying to free his wrists, but whoever had tied him up had done their job well. The ropes didn’t give even a fraction.

“Well, I might have been nice at first,” Barachiel said with a chillingly sweet smile. “But that was before I had Michael riding my ass to get you to say yes. You _had_ to kill Zachariah, didn’t you?”

“Not enjoyin’ the promotion, sweetheart?” Dean said. “Tragic. Don’t see how that’s my problem.”

Still with her scary smile, Barachiel just shook her head and turned to cross over to Castiel, her heels clacking on the concrete floor. “Well, I’m going to make it your problem,” she said. “Clearly, the lives of seven billion humans isn’t enough motivation for you. But then I had a brilliant idea. Why overly complicate things when I could just keep it simple?”

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat at the sight of Barachiel running a finger down Castiel’s cheek. Castiel just growled and stared Barachiel dead in the eye. Despite his nauseating worry, Dean didn’t think he could be any prouder of Castiel.

“So, Dean, here’s what’s going to happen.” Barachiel said. “Castiel’s going to be tortured and you’re going to listen to every second of it. Then you’ll be brought in to watch until you say yes. Do you have any questions?”

“Look, lady,” Dean spat, trying to keep the fear currently curdling his insides out of his voice. “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna say yes when you act just like Lucifer’s side. Not really doin’ much to prove that your side’s the right one.”

Barachiel gave him another sickly-sweet smile that was horribly out of place on her vessel’s young, round face. “But you will say yes, Dean. You’ll say yes to spare Castiel more pain. I’ve been ordered to punish him for disobedience, but if you agree to say yes then I’m sure I could work something out to extend a little lenience.”

Dean frantically met Castiel’s eyes. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be some way that Castiel could get out – he _had_ to. Because Dean would never say yes when being tortured himself, but both of them knew that hurting Castiel or Sam or anyone else Dean loved was guaranteed to break him. Judging by the sheer air of triumph that Barachiel was emanating, she knew this too.

“Take him into the next room,” Barachiel said to the angels holding Castiel prisoner. “And don’t start off easy. I want Castiel screaming as soon as possible.”

“Don’t do this,” Dean pleaded, his mouth dry and his heart hammering in his chest. “Please. It’s me you got beef with. Leave Cas outta it.”

“Did you not listen to me?” Barachiel said as a furiously struggling Castiel was hauled away. “Castiel needs to be punished for disobeying. We _do_ have beef with him. But the amount of punishment he’s given is entirely contingent on you, Dean. So…make your choice.”

It didn’t take very long for Castiel’s cries of pain to waft out of the other room. Dean’s heart practically burst out of his chest at the sound, and he tugged furiously on the ropes binding him to the wall as though he would magically Hulk out of them and go save Castiel.

“Stop it!” Dean yelled. He’d be damned if he showed any sign of weakness, but he still couldn’t help squeezing his eyes shut as though that would block out the sound. “Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!”

“I should have done this months ago.” Barachiel’s eyes gleamed rather madly. “I should have realised that using the people you love was the only way you were going to do what we say.”

A particularly loud scream made Dean shake his head furiously and pull so hard on his ropes that his wrists stung violently. If they’d started bleeding, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

“STOP IT!” he bellowed. Barachiel just smiled and said nothing as she untied Dean’s wrists from the wall and used the rope to haul him into the next room, and the sight he was met with very nearly made him hurl.

“Disobedience is a sin, Castiel,” Barachiel said, tightening her grip on Dean’s wrists. Her pale brown hair hung in a messy bush around her face, only enhancing the madness she was exuding. “You needed to be punished.”

The sight of Castiel dangling from a pipe by his Enochian handcuffs, face and clothes covered in blood, brought back the memory of Alastair looming over a half-dead Castiel, and Dean had whacked Barachiel in the face and was scrambling for Castiel before he was even aware of what he was doing. But the other two angels were on their guard and grabbed Dean’s arms before he could take more than a few steps.

“Leave him alone, you bitch!” Dean shouted. For the briefest of moments, it was Alastair’s sick grin he was seeing instead of Barachiel’s, but then Alastair faded away and it was just Barachiel, dabbing at her bloody nose delicately.

“You don’t get it yet, do you, Dean?” Barachiel said. “You can shout and lash out and hurt us however much you want, but we’re not allowed to lay a finger on you to cause you harm. But we _can_ take it out on Castiel. And that’s what we’ll do until you say yes.” She nodded at one of the angels holding Dean. “I do wonder what it would feel like if we ripped Castiel’s intestines out. I’ve never had the chance to experiment on a fallen angel like Castiel before, especially with these special handcuffs. Find out for me, would you, Nithael?”

“No!” Dean burst out as Nithael advanced on Castiel, whose bright blue eyes burned with a mixture of defiance and fear. “No! I’ll say yes!”

Nithael paused with the point of his angel blade digging into Castiel’s stomach.

“Dean – no –” Castiel coughed, blood splattering his lips and chin. “You can’t –”

Nithael moved his angel blade from stomach to neck, pressing the point into the soft skin of Castiel’s throat. Castiel fell silent but his wide eyes spoke volumes.

“Excellent.” Barachiel’s eyes glimmered gleefully. Still holding Dean’s wrists, she looked up at the ceiling and began to chant in Enochian. “Zodiredo…noco…aberamage…nazodpesade. He’s coming.”

“Dean – he’ll know –” Castiel tried to say, but Nithael silenced him by digging the angel blade into his throat even harder. The room around them began to shake and fill with white light and a high-pitched sound.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile but what felt more like a grimace. Unlike last time, with Zachariah, he couldn’t see any way to bluff his way out of this. Castiel wasn’t going anywhere, and they were surrounded by three angels. There was no way he could kill Barachiel and the others, free Castiel, and get out of there before Michael arrived. The white light intensified to blinding point, and the high-pitched ringing in his ears seemed to almost melt into words. _Do you consent?_

“Dean – you can’t –”

Dean looked Castiel in the eyes and shrugged apologetically. He couldn’t say no. Not if it meant the love of his life would be tortured half to death again. Castiel deserved to be happy and good, not constantly being tortured and beat down just because he was unfortunate enough that Dean was in love with him.

“Cas goes free, okay?” Dean growled. “None of you assholes lay another finger on him or anyone else I love.”

_Agreed._

“Then…yes.” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Dean could influence Michael in some way. Maybe he could even overpower Michael like Sam and Cas had done with Lucifer and Gadreel –

Every muscle in Dean’s body froze. Shit. His memories – he was from the future – _Michael would know_. Castiel had been trying to warn him! He’d gone all this time without spilling to the enemy, and now Michael would be in his head and would find out –

Dean opened his mouth to protest, to say no and revoke his consent before Michael got inside him, but a cloud of blue-white mist was already streaming into the room. Before Dean could say anything, the mist poured into his mouth…he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore…he was floating, the link between brain and body severed…and then nothing.

It was in this moment, drifting in a haze of darkness, that Dean really, truly regretted how he’d forced Gadreel inside Sam. He’d been so focused on saving Sam that he hadn’t even considered what it must feel like to have every bit of control over your body ripped away from you; to have an overwhelming being of pure celestial energy compressing itself into your fragile meat, with total control over what you did and whether you even lived or died.

When Dean opened his eyes, he found himself slumped in one of the chairs at the long tables in the bunker. Sitting a few seats away was a young man with dark hair, flipping through a gigantic book that Dean didn’t recall ever seeing in the Men of Letters’ library. The man looked irritatingly familiar, but Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

The man looked up, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. It was his father. Well, to be more specific, the younger version of his father from 1973.

“Dad? Why the hell are you here?” Dean said. John gave a small smile, but in a way that wasn’t like John at all.

“I suppose it would make sense that you would see me in this form,” John said. “I must admit, it was rather surprising to learn about 1978…well, the other 1978.”

Something icy cold trickled through Dean’s veins. “Michael.”

John – no, Michael – inclined his head. “I’ve been…acquainting myself with this other timeline since you allowed me in.” He turned the page of the book, which Dean now realised must have been his memories of the other timeline. “Remarkable. Now it makes sense as to how you’ve always been one step ahead of us the whole time.”

“Get outta my memories!” Dean tried to dive at Michael and wrench the book away but found that he couldn’t move. “What the hell are you doin’ to me?”

“Calm down, Dean.” Michael shook his head, still reading the book. “I must say, from what I’ve seen, your distrust makes perfect sense. I thought you were just being difficult for the sake of being difficult. I never considered that you might have legitimate reasons for resisting me instead of simple sheer stubbornness.”

“Cool,” Dean muttered. “Look, can you do somethin’ about Cas already? Your little puppet fucked him up and you agreed to free Cas if I said yes.”

But Michael was still skimming through the book, and his face visibly darkened at what he saw. “ _Father_?” he exclaimed. He looked up at Dean wildly. “You – my Father – he appeared to you?”

“Yep,” Dean said. “Sorry he didn’t like you enough to –”

“I’m well aware of his…preference for Lucifer,” Michael said acidly. “Even the Darkness could see Father’s favouritism, and she understood _nothing_ of love. But I – I spent _millennia_ following his orders! I was the good son! I did everything to make him proud and – and he chose to talk to _Lucifer_ and not me? He chose to ignore my suffering in the Cage because I was doing as he asked?”

“Look, buddy, I’ve been there,” Dean said, testing how stuck he was to his chair. He wasn’t, so he took the chance to straighten himself up. “Doin’ everything your dad says but it’s never good enough. He always picks the other brother. But guess what? I sucked it up. I got over it. I realised that no matter how shitty my absent dad was, I always had Sam. And I ain’t saying that you need to be that way with Lucifer, since he’s a colossal dickbag, but the way you’ve been treating everyone else is absolutely shit. Get over yourself, man.”

Michael’s eyes blazed, and he slammed the book shut. “You understand nothing, Dean Winchester,” he snarled. “You think that _one_ necessary alliance with Father against the Darkness gives you the power to speak for him? I’ve done _everything_ he asked of me – I even worshipped you _humans_ when requested – and he goes and – well, it’s clear that trying to please him will do nothing –”

“Look, Mikey –”

Michael waved a disparaging hand in his direction. Dean only had enough time to realise the shit he’d gotten himself into before the mental bunker melted away from around him and everything went black.


	35. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Holy epilogue! I just want to say a MASSIVE thanks to everybody who read this and enjoyed! (Still thanks if you read but you don’t get extra thanks if you didn’t like. Booooo). 
> 
> And once again, a HUMONGOUS thanks to my beta Anika, my artist dreymart, and the DCBB organisers Jojo and Muse for making this possible!
> 
> Yes, there will be a sequel. I know the ending is sad. Talk to the SPN writers, they did it first with S13.
> 
> [Artwork by the amazingly brilliant dreymart <3](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/179070597389/and-here-we-go-again-this-time-i-had-the-pleasure)

_Bright fire. Barachiel ablaze._

_Wide-eyed Cas. Back in the bunker. Everyone’s shouting._

_“Michael! It’s Michael!”_

_“I need you, Sam Winchester.”_

_Sam. Sam! Sam’s in danger. Move. Break free. Nothing. Grabbing Sam’s arm._

_Pretty field. Blue flowers. Cas’ eyes. Where’s Cas? What’s happening? He wants Cas. Cas is safety. Cas is light._

_There’s Lucifer. He’s laughing. Looking at Sam. Sam shakes his head._

_Then there’s battle. Fast. Powerful. Metallic. His shoulder…something hurts. But he’s okay. Need to kill Lucifer. Need to kill Lucifer. Make Father proud. Do as he’s told. Maybe Father will come back._

_But he can’t. Can’t kill his brother. Slices his throat instead. Blue-white grace bleeds out, fills a vial. Healed with the touch of a finger._

_“You hate humans so much, Lucifer? You can learn what it’s like to be one, while I reshape this Earth and purge it of sin. Maybe Father will love you again if you’re one of his little creations.”_

_Why can’t he fight back? Sam fought back. Cas fought back. Both against Lucifer. But Dean can’t focus. Is he awake? Asleep? Alive? Dead? Trapped deep inside himself?_

_Chuck had said things would be better. This is agony. He can’t move. He can’t speak. Sam looks horrified. Tries to reassure Sam, can’t move his own mouth._

_Sam will never go to Hell. Sam will never do the Hell trials._

_Cas will never spiral into depression. Cas won’t know that pain. Cas won’t have to say yes._

_Claire will have people there for her._

_Anna won’t die._

_Bobby won’t die._

_Ellen won’t die._

_Jo won’t die._

_Maybe Mary will come back. She’ll have Sam._

_Things are better. Everyone else is alive and better off._

_Maybe this is his price to pay. Dean can live with this._


End file.
